Mixed Bag Monday

You know how you have so much that you want to tell a friend during a phone conversation that you’re thinking, “Well, that looks like a bipolar mix of topics if ever there was one.” Well, yeah. That’s my post today.

“Acting out” this weekend was awesome. While our opening night was lackluster (we later realized that the audience wasn’t great, which tends to batter already-sensitive actor egos), our Saturday and Sunday performances were stellar, hilarious, and incredibly fun. That high that can only be brought by appreciative audiences was better than I remember.

A side note of annoyance (to any of you who may be live audience members at any point in the future, please take note) occurred during yesterday’s performance. It was clear that, although it was a Sunday audience (historically known as consisting of the elderly and more religious types), they were thoroughly enjoying the show, bawdiness and all. We began our second act and they seemed to still be on the chatty side (like trying to teach kids right after they come in from recess), so while my “fiance” started his lines (in which he’s questioning himself, and me, about how his show’s first read-through went), a gentleman in the audience STARTED ANSWERING.

We heard him as clear as day. He wasn’t ignorant (well…) nor hard-of-hearing nor any other excuse I could fathom. He was just a wiseass. He even loudly replied to whomever sat near him, “I know, I’m bad. I cause trouble.” (Something like that; I was too busy trying not to glare into the audience.) Needless to say, he made it incredibly difficult to focus and my fellow actor got flustered trying to remember his line. (He didn’t appear that way to the audience and I thought he did a smashing job of not letting it get to him, but we were both PISSED in that moment.)

The fact that the show is called “Don’t Talk to the Actors” just added to the ridiculousness.

Similarly, we had someone’s cell phone go off THREE TIMES — and they didn’t turn it off or do anything. Just kept ringing one of those obnoxious songs. Our “stage manager” told people to turn them off, especially since we have cell phone rings (and even the sound of a vibrating phone) as part of the show, but apparently the request didn’t stick.

It didn’t sour the whole show, but such mistakes are just reprehensible to me. Why do folks feel they’re above rules and general common courtesy? So many people ask us how we remember so many lines, and I now think to myself, “If you knew how much work went into it, and were up there trying to remember them yourself, would you keep your yapping to yourself and turn off your phone??”

Of course, this wasn’t the majority of the audience, and we were ultimately SO grateful just to have an audience who enjoyed spending their time with us! 

Anyhoo, needless to say, I’m hoping for three more great audiences, and am bittersweet about it all ending…especially since I’m mentally planning on starting my spring cleaning when the end comes. Blech.

Still need to get a picture or two of the costumes I selected. I’d also like to grab one or two of “behind the scenes” stuff. We’ll see if I can remember. *wink, wink*

NEXT TOPIC!

Happy St. Patrick’s Day! I’m one of those super-proud (mostly) Irish folks that don’t full-on celebrate the day. Like, I don’t drink green beer (or any, really, for that matter…not just to celebrate the day), I don’t hit up the parade (Dave’s not a fan of the rowdiness; can’t blame him), and I don’t go to church to thank St. Patrick for being crazy enough to want to return to Ireland after being enslaved there for years, all for his passion of spreading his religion.

But, I’m wearing green, and I take plenty of time to appreciate my ancestry.

And, apparently, I depress children.

Yep, call me the “let’s learn about Ireland and St. Patrick!!!” Debbie Downer.

See, I decided to use the chance to show my fourth graders some of the databases we purchase, so I looked up “Irish” (on a couple of sites so they can see the difference), and man was I a tad too informative.

They learned about St. Patrick, and since they’ve been learning a lot about African-American history, I used it as a teachable moment to show that Africans weren’t the only slaves (and still aren’t). Okay, not TOO bad.

Then, we searched about the Irish Potato Famine. Oops. I had read it in advance, but the more I talked about it, the more I realized that I was probably…um…yeah. It wasn’t anything horrific, but it was far from the usual “they’re after me lucky charms” leprechaun festivities of a regular St. Patrick’s Day. “See the historical etching of this family? The father who’s crying? The mother holding her baby, with several kids laying around? Yeah, they’re gonna die.” Wop wop.

Maybe we should’ve just researched Irish music…?

So, that’s where I am today. How ’bout you?

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