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June 23, 2009

A Really Uninteresting Entry

Seriously. There's nothing to see here, move along.

I have wracked my brains to come up with a topic so I can post today and feel like I'm getting back to a regular routine after all the travel/illness, but the best I can do is to write about how I have nothing to write about. I mean, what did I do today?

☀ Filled out forms for official copies of my transcript & sent some emails.

☀ Leaped back in alarm as a spider on a bookshelf--I swear to God this is true--LAUNCHED itself at me. I don't know where it went and I don't care. It missed me, and that's the most important thing.

☀ Sort of had a job interview, which may well lead to my first theatre gig in Chicago. Not acting, unfortunately, but working with a director and some actors in ways that may well get me at least looked at for later roles.

☀ Discovered that this whole time I've been using old plastic credit-card like things, I've had a PALETTE KNIFE in one of my tool mugs. Seriously. A palette knife. Glad I figured that out before I went and bought one.

☀ Walked to 1) the Post Office, 2) the Registrar's Office, 3) the bank, 4) large national chain "arts" and crafts store, 5)Walgreens, 6) home. That's about 5 miles, not counting the walking I did inside buildings.

☀ Bought some art suppies.

And that's pretty much it. Now that the wine from dinner has worn off, I'm going to go work on my lines. At the yearly company "Come see our shows! Look at the cool stuff we're doing!" event this Sunday, I've been asked to be part of one of the scenes they'll preview. Of course it's one of the scenes where I have insane amounts of lines. Not one of the scenes where I just stand there and mutter occasionally. So I need to be off book. It's good because it means I won't have to worry about that scene any more. It's bad because I was sort of hoping to sneak up on that one gradually, working on it a little bit at a time as I got off book on the rest of my lines. Now I have to deal with the monster first. And by monster, I mean this:

NURSE
Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.

LADY CAPULET
She's not fourteen.

NURSE
15 I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,--
And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four--
She's not fourteen. How long is it now to Lammas-tide?

LADY CAPULET
A fortnight and odd days.

NURSE
20 Even or odd, of all days in the year,
Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen.
Susan and she--God rest all Christian souls!--
Were of an age. Well, Susan is with God,
She was too good for me. But, as I said,
25 On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen.
That shall she. Marry, I remember it well.
'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;
And she was wean'd,--I never shall forget it,--
Of all the days of the year, upon that day.
30 For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall.
My lord and you were then at Mantua:--
Nay, I do bear a brain. But, as I said,
When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple
35 Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool,
To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug!
Shake quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow,
To bid me trudge:
And since that time it is eleven years;
40 For then she could stand high-lone; nay, by the rood,
She could have run and waddled all about.
For even the day before, she broke her brow,
And then my husband--God be with his soul!
He was a merry man--took up the child,
45 'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit.
Wilt thou not, Jule?' And, by my holidam,
The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.'
To see, now, how a jest shall come about!
50 I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,
I never should forget it. 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he.
And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay.'

LADY CAPULET
Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.

NURSE
Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh,
55 To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.'
And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow
A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone.
A parlous knock, and it cried bitterly.
'Yea,' quoth my husband,'Fall'st upon thy face?
60 Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age.
Wilt thou not, Jule?' It stinted and said 'Ay.'

JULIET
And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.

NURSE
Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace!
Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed.
65 An I might live to see thee married once,
I have my wish.

I have more to say in that scene, but not much. Though I must say, after the beast that was the line load for Collected Stories, which was essentially two women talking for two hours and ten minutes, this seems teeny by comparison. Still, I've got to get it into my head by Sunday, and it's the worst kind of thing to memorize, the same stuff said several times in slightly different ways. It's so easy to talk yourself in circles with a speech like this one.

And because of the language, I can't just rattle it off, I also have to know exactly what it means so I can impart that meaning to the audience. And it's not all entirely clear to me yet.

BUT. It's a role I'm enjoying playing, and our Romeo and Juliet are both really solid, along with being absolutely lovely human beings. Anyway, I'm going to work on these lines a bit and then maybe do some art before I go to bed. Though now that I see the time, I may just go to bed and work my lines there.

Now, aren't you glad you chose to not read this entry but instead went off and lived your life? I warned you it was uninteresting.

Posted by sally at June 23, 2009 10:24 PM

Comments

Posted by: Heather K at June 24, 2009 03:24 PM

Posted by: Laura at June 29, 2009 06:49 PM

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