The sound of my own voice

ECHOOOO!! (CHO-CHO-cho-cho...) 

Hmmm...why do I even try? I know no one reads this thing...but I seem to like the sound of my voice too much. Or rather, the sound of my new Australian Government funded Macbook's (who I have named Jeanette, after the actress Jeanette MACDonald. Clever, eh?) shiny, ivory keys clicking and clacking away as I type. And the smooth and big "trackpad" which is such a high-tech little thing that it lets you do so much that my techie friends think that actually clicking it is labour! 

Ahh, this is a nice sound... 

Now I'm reminded of that myth about Echo and Narcissus. But instead of falling in love with my image and plunging into my death at a lake, I'm think I'm getting alarmingly fond of the sound of my keystrokes. Creepy....

Although... if this "fondness" could last maybe until tomorrow morning when I'd have begun my Bronte-inspired English piece, I could use it for good!! But first, I've gotta stop this Spooks S8 marathon. Should not have just "taken a quick peek". "Quick peek" and Richard Armitage do not go so well together. If only he'd played Rochester...(Though, I'm not complaining about Toby Stephens, mind you.) 

OKAY, focus...time to use the key stroke loving for some work...but maybe after episode 6...

Someday, I will have to resort to this.

Crusing with the ten year olds is hard work.

New dance school. New people. New teachers. New method. New work ethic.

And now I find myself crusing with talented kids years younger than me. I'm not saying I think I can do a better job than any of them (though I wish I could) because I'm not, but I am a wee uncomfortable being so technically behind as they watch me attempt a jazz travel step they've rehearsed countless times before. Red faced mania in that one hour of Tap and Jazz class, I tell ya.

But I'm staying because I want to be good. That school is clearly one of the better academies (I don't even want to think of how bad I now realize that school I belonged to before actually was!) and so, I will soon find myself exhausted and sore before my Saturday afternoons have even begun.

Lots of work to do! And how perfect; the school year has just begun right along with it.

"Nice work if you can get it---and you can get it if you try"

- The Gershwin bruddahs

                                             

I've always loved the Gaynor Minden tag line. :)

"God, I hope I get it!"

I've just about finished my three hundredth round of belting stuff from A Chorus Line and am still about to click "Play" again. It's a fabulous show and one of the most honest works in theatre history; but its Tony Award-winning goodness is not the reason I've suddenly begun this Chorus Line craze.

I have just sent my first job application. Ever.

The anxiety and the constantly drifting thoughts of "God, I hope I get it!!" robbed me of sleep (though I've composed cute little limericks at 4 am in the hopes of tiring myself) and consumed every other nook and cranny in the Brain of Margaret. In fact, that is why this entry has come to be---distraction.

The application letter was for a 1 week work experience placement at Opera Australia (in the performance area) and, boy, did I screw up big time. You will never believe what an AIRHEAD I must now seem like! I actually forgot to put my contact details in. Sure I emailed it, but I SHOULD HAVE put it on the darn letter!! So that though process went through my head this morning and I'm telling ya, my hands have never sweat so much in my life.

And it gets worse because I had no idea what to do. You know what I did? I added it in the letter and re-sent it with the "I humbly apologize for the lack of information" crap. Now they think I'm disorganized, unprofessional and well... a scatter brained teenager (not that some of these thing aren't true, but they're not supposed to find out yet!).

God, I hope I get it.
I hope I get it.
How many people does he need?

God, I really blew it!
I really blew it!
How could I do a thing like that?

Now I'll never make it!
I'll never make it!
He doesn't like the way I look.
He doesn't like the way I dance.
He doesn't like the way I...

- "God I Hope I Get It" Lyrics by Edward Kleban

Should I have left it?

A Few of My Favourite Things

The New Year has come and resolutions are flooding the blogosphere! However, I''m not one for resolutions. So instead of brainstorming about the future, I'm shifting my focus (yes, I do possess some) to the smaller, quite trivial things that I love. Here's a little list of what I favour as much as charming "silver white winters that melt into springs" (though not as poetically expressed):

1. Watching the foam smoothly being washed down my arm with water.

2. Holding a new script in your hands before rehearsal, every page crisp and crumple free.

3. Highlighting lines with the highlighter gliding smoothly across the page.

4. Holding the script in your hand after the last show, slight rips on the edges and the corners in small triangle
folds.

5. Fairy floss (aka cotton candy) quickly dissolving into nothing in your mouth.

6. Writing with ink and nibs.

7. Those minutes where my entire room is orange becase of the sunset and the way my curtains spread the
light.

8. Trying to carry a conversation using Year 9 school level Italian with a native speaker.

9. The word 'Champagne'.

10. Biting into pomegranate seeds.

11. Ripping envelopes open

12. Uncoiling my hair from rollers.

13. Looking at someone and knowing you're thinking the same thing.

14. Going out of my way to step on crisp looking leaves on the sidewalk.

15. Doing subtle dance steps in the middle of secondary roads.

:]

So what's your favorite little something?

Whimsy Words: Purple...eyeliner?

Halloween is long gone and the jolly season of Christmas is almost upon the world's merry citizens.
So why on earth am I holding this purple pencil my best friend bought me? Everyone who knows me know my hands should be kept as far away from the make up counter as possible. I just can't comprehend the stuff!

It's not just that. It's PURPLE. Purple. Puuuuurple. (Great, now the word sounds weird.) Okay, there's probably some top secret technique so that it looks...fit for public display...; but at the moment, I look like a semi-sadist's girlfriend with this violent looking bruise around my eyes. Real glamourous.
And now I conclude this enlightening post to amuse myself with this fascinating piece of cosmetic by embellishing my face with colourful, not-theatrical-at-all evidence of my healthy relationship with above lover. Creativity is the key!

Have you ever received a present and just thought: "What the heck am I going to need THIS for?!!"

Merry Xmas everyone!

Your friendly neighbourhood Margaret x

"All the world's a stage". Literally.

Da Man hath said it and now Crazy Theatre Geek is walkin' the walk.

I sincerely believe that everything in life; every Math period, every exasperating soccer drill in PE and every "Margaret, wash the dishes!!", can be split into the Overture, Act I, yadidaahhh, Intermission, Act II, blaaaahhh and Finale (a.k.a. "I'M FREE!" if you're watching Cats. Or Paint Never Dries Love Never Dies.). A mini-musical in everything :D. There mightn't seem to be alot of point in thinking of things that way; but, to me, everyday seems be somewhat brighter when I think of what could be happening if life's tedious no-way-outs kicked off with violins playing allegro and ended with applause.

Now for something a speck more contemplative: I think everyone could use a little theatre in their life. Not the glitter or that umpteenth bruise from crashing into the same prop door every. damn. time. but just the basic, most cliche phrase of the theatre: "The show must go on!".
The show will always go on. The curtain will always rise on the dot. And that is why 98756856 people have died during runs of Macbeth. That ever determined passion to stand up everytime you trip is an attitude that could bring people further than they have ever dared to imagine. THAT'S a motto for ya, folks!

"There's no people like show people, they smile when they are low!...Let's go on with the show, let's go on with the show!"

Keep smiling =)

Your friendly neighbourhood Margaret x

My dear Mrs English Teacher and what I know

I know I sound like that naive protagonist character when I say: My English teacher told me I need to write about "what I know" instead of overdramatic "drivel". Maybe it's true, maybe it's not; but summer break had just begun and it's already a daily challenge to find more, quoting my mom, "wholesome" activities than drooling over a Richard Armitage clad in nothing but delicious dark blue spandex. Ahem.

So, hence, this humble blog was born!

I won't be writing about the passionate tribulations of my Contessa Clarinda but of the unexplored world of "what I know" (a certain Mr. Armitage may or may not fall under that category) which really just revolves around the arts, literature, anything vintage and just being happy. My entries aren't written to impress (but it's great if they do). They're just my, at times, pointless, commentary and I won't pretend that they are anything more. I just hope I'm not as boring as I think I might be...

I would really appreciate any comments or suggestions about aaaanything at all :)

Sorry. I had to. Here's something a little more wholesome...

No one quite does it like Monet, eh?

Keep smiling =) 
Your friendly neighbourhood Margaret x