The sad scene--Nathan, you are here

Most of my posts are happy, silly, excited, and yes, a few are complaining.

This one is really about sadness. And fear.

I will cry during the typing of this blog.

I am rehearsing the scene in ACC where the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come shows Scrooge that, because of Scrooge's selfishness and cruelty, Tiny Tim dies. I will be talking about my son, Tiny Tim Cratchit's death.

My own son died. Nathan Kelly. Almost three years ago. How can I talk about Tiny Tim's death and not wail for the death of my own son? In the scene, my husband, Bob Cratchit, is also supposed to sob. I'm not sure about the young man who's cast as Bob. Not sure he has the capacity as an actor to cry. But my husband will be playing Bob for one performance. Though Nathan isn't Craig's natural son, Craig has felt Nathan's loss, too. How can Craig and I get through this scene?

Acting is living for me. I take my experiences from my life and put them into my characters onstage. I wish this wasn't a scene I could pull such agonizing pain into it. Nathan's death haunts me. It always will. And he, too, died from others' selfishness, including my own.

I have some time to memorize the lines. I have some time to put this into perspective. But I know Mrs. Cratchit's pain.

I am going to ask God to please ask Nathan to be with us during our performances. Whatever Nathan is doing in heaven, for those nights, I need him with me.

Keep playing. And loving. And healing.

Gingko Biloba, here I come!

This will be a short blog. Why?

We were told on Tuesday that ACC is no longer going to be a reader's theater. I saw this coming. All the costume changes and moving around set pieces. I saw it, but didn't want to believe it.

Oh, don't get me wrong. The show will be a ton more awesome. If, that is, I can remember my friggin' lines. So I am memorizing, and Caden is going to record them for me so I can listen to them on my Ipod.

How I will get through the scene when The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come shows Tiny Tim as already dead I d not know. If I were holding a book, I think I could do it without completely breaking down. Now? Answer: Xanax.

Oh, and I was kinda whiny at the rehearsal when they told us this, and my fellow cast members are serious champs and offered to help me. Love them!

So here I go, memorizing.

Keep Playing! (and remembering!)

Up and Down and Memorizing Sucks

I had hoped with the blog that I could keep everything separate. This blog would be about this (like about a certain play or something), while that blog was about simply this one thing.

Today that's not really working out. See, I had a really cool thing happen--a really amazing thing really. But I need to start earlier. As I travel around reviewing plays, I've gotten to know people. Some have become friends. (And some not, but I won't go there today.) One friend, Jeff, works for a theater company in Salt Lake City--the Off Broadway Theater (OBT). Jeff and I have hit it off and remained in contact. He blessed me by attending "Hairspray" and telling me he liked it.

Without going into details (that are altogether fascinating and what I consider a miracle but I'm too tired to type out right now) Jeff got me an audition for the OBT for their Christmas show. I know it sounds weird, but they're doing a show with a Sesame Street--Mr. Rogers--Suessical theme. I went to the assistant director's house today and auditioned because the call backs for the show are tomorrow. I will be busy with opening night for "Impossible Mystery."

Long story short--the audition was super fun! Wendy liked me, said I have "good diction" (preening--really?) I asked, "So you don't think I sound like a Poindexter?" She said no. Yeah! She said she felt a real connection with me. She said, "If you don't get cast in this show, keep auditioning, and when I do my own shows (she also directs) I'll let you know. I want you in my show."

Okay, wow.

I drove home intermittently crying--feeling blessed.

Then I went to dress rehearsal for "Impossible Mystery." I forgot half my lines, and I don't have too many. Everything felt all flustered, disorganized. I was dazzled by the show and forgot all the timing, the storyline (as this is how I remember things: this comes first, then this, then this). I was completely screwed up.

I came home and wanted to cry, but this time from humiliation. Wendy, the assistant director, asked me if I was good at memorizing. I was honest. I told her I was okay.

I need to do something, learn something, so I can memorize better. This feels like a phobia or something. I want to do this--live theater--so I have to figure out a way to do it well.

Keep Playing! (and for me tonight--I will keep praying.)