Alex & I- I'm going on three hours of sleep after a night of noribong and eight hours of rehearsal... Alex just came back from Thailand, making me look even whiter than usual.I was nine when I moved to Calgary and the school year had already started, and though I was excited to move to a big city, I was scared to make new friends. I was terrified my first day at St Gerard school. I wondered if the kids would like me, would they be different from small city kids? Would the teachers like me? Of course my fears were unfounded. I soon made friends despite the fact that even at nine I was a know it all. The friends I made were, of course, very much like me. We enjoyed the same stupid games, and coasted our way through school. We were smart, and quiet- a combination teachers love. I've lost touch with most of my friends from elementary school, but Alex and Thelma remain close friends. We've gone years without seeing each other, but it always seems we're on the same page when we do. We live in different parts of Canada, and currently all three of us are overseas, in different countries. Somehow it works though. In high school, we started drifting apart. We all went to different high schools, Alex and I in Calgary, and Thelma in Ottawa. Alex and I had very different friends, but when we met up, it seemed we were getting into the same sort of trouble. My talks with Thelma were few and far between, but it seemed she was in the same place as Alex and I. As high school drew to a close, Alex and I began to make plans to move in together. And our prodigal friend returned from Ottawa.
Our favourite pre-show warm-up; Catch with glow-in-the-dark balls.
In Junior High, Alex, Thelma and I had been partners in our home ec class. We soon learned that not one of us had any sort of abilities in the kitchen. Our first task was to make a smoothie with egg and cinnamon and some other spices. Sounds easy enough, I'm sure. All three of us managed to misread the instructions, so there was a tablespoon of nutmeg instead of a teaspoon. It was disgusting, but we drank it anyway- hoping our mistake would not be uncovered. An argument ensued afterwards about who would do the dishes - all of us of course, had been spoiled by dishwashers, and not up for doing things the old fashioned way. The next class, our teacher guided us into a more difficult project. We were nervous, seeing as how we didn't exactly master the first one. Pigs in a blanket. We took great care to make sure that all of our measurements were right. We slid the tray into the oven and cleaned up as we waited for them to bake. We again argued about who would do the dishes. Twenty minutes later, we peaked into the oven to see how the pigs were coming. They looked the same. We closed the door and left them in another ten minutes. Then we checked again. Their blankets were not even the slightest bit brown, in fact, not even the cheese was melted. It was then that we realized we hadn't turned the oven on. We finished off the semester by burning our final project, if I remember correctly.
September 1st 1998, Alex and I moved in together- some five years after our home ec incidents. We moved into an empty apartment, excited to have our first home independant of our parents. We hadn't planned ahead. We had saved up enough to account for bills and rent, but not for furniture or kitchen things. We ordered KFC that night, and realized we didn't have any cups or plates. We made an emergency run to Walmart and returned home with the basics. But still something was missing. Furniture. We looked around our apartment, empty but for a few knick knacks. Luckily, friends and family donated many of the missing items. Andrea's grandmother gave us a kitchen table, a bed, end tables and a cool green lamp that I still have. Alex's family gave us some dishes and my dad contributed a TV. Alex's boyfriend bought us a purple, inflatable couch. We were always tempted to fill the couch with water and get some fish, but neither of us liked the idea of fish staring at our butts. Despite our strict rules for the couch (no keys, no coffee), it soon popped - leaving us couchless. Fortunately a friend soon came through with one that his family had deemed too ugly to keep- even in their basement.
Totally unrelated to tales of old friends- our article from the Korea Times- that's me way up high on the chair.
It was immediately obvious that neither of us had gained any skill in the kitchen since our days in home ec. Our trips to the grocery store involved the purchases of processed, micro-waveable foods, ice cream and cheesecake. Our bills and rent were never late, but when we finally got around to the dishes, it usually took a few hours. We bought new clothes instead of bothering with laundry. The apartment was in a constant state of disaster. But it was a good and easy year. When you've known someone eleven years, there are few surprises- even if it's the first time you've lived together.
Alex and I have always been perpetually in relationships. While Alex has had several (in my opinion) long relationships, I've repeated the same short-lived mistakes again and again. This year was no exception, and our individual relationship habits stood out more than usual, contrasted against each other. I hated her new boyfriend, and she hated my old one (yet new again).
The year drew to a close, and our lease nearly up, Alex packed her things and moved to BC for school. My ex-boyfriend (see, repetitive mistakes) moved in for the remainder of the lease and my stories with crazy roomates soon began. I didn't realize how much things would change until afterwards. Alex and I have drifted at points, then found each other again. For awhile, she would come back to Calgary at Christmas. Then I moved to Montreal, and we were never home at the same time. When Alex arrived in Seoul last month, it was the first time we'd seen each other in five years. What's alarming is how much we've both changed, yet somehow we're still on the same page. We've both fought our seperate battles, graduated from different programs, fallen into different groups of friends. We've travelled. We've fallen in and out of relationships- and right back in again. Suddenly it seemed the tables had turned. Alex arrived in Seoul describing her trip to Thailand with her old (yet new) boyfriend- reemerged from our Calgary days. I contemplated how strange it was that I had been with Fred nearly four years and Alex had still not met him. After Alex left, I looked around the apartment at the mess that surrounded me. The past eight months in Korea have turned me into somewhat of a clean freak when it comes to my apartment- though it seems that I quite readily returned to my old ways with Alex there. Clothes and towels strung about all over the apartment- a sink overflowing with dishes (some even appeared to be growing legs and walking out on their own) and an empty fridge. Alll reminders that some things never change. My stove had not been turned on all week- except to make coffee.
As I think about friendship, it shocks me how many people have come and gone from my life that I was once close with, but now have no idea where they are or what they're doing. I've heard rumors of big moves, of marriage and babies but I can't tell the truth from stories at this point. Important people seem to creep into your life and stay through a string of odd circumstances. Many of my close friends could have fallen to the sidelines if any number of variables had turned out differently. At our cast party last night, we celebrated the end of our two week run with dinner and drinks. Keeping with tradition, the party was quite dramatic. To begin with, it seems that I was once again overly critical of the show- or I'm entirely too pretentious to appreciate theatre that can actually be understood by an audience... one or the other. The audiences loved the show and we received a good deal of media attention. We were written up three times in the paper (once with photo on front page) and were interviewed for our talk show on KBS online. This'll teach you never to listen to my opinion about a show I'm in.
From Left- Emily, Ed, Steven, Sean, Me and Mackenzie In any case, our producers, Jono and Anthony treated us to dinner and paid for the first round of drinks at a bar in Little America. They invited us to come to Hongdae with them, where they had met DJs at a club and could get everyone in free. My director, Krista shot them down. She was determined to stay in Little America (selfishly, in my opinion because that is where she happens to live). We picked up and moved to a bar down the street. All was well until they rolled in the TV to show the England vs Portugal game. While all of us- save one, settled down and began watching the game with interest- Krista tapped us on the shoulder. We're going, she said. Apparently when one spends a hundred dollars on a dress, one cannot watch soccer in said dress. I'd criticize but what the hell do I know about the rules for dresses? Anyway, Jono stayed behind determined to watch the game. And then we were ten -we moved on. Anthony found a small nightclub with live music, and as we made our way down the stairs we were again tapped by the almighty director. The cast had yet to spend a dime, but she thought 10$ cover was too much. We moved on, losing Anthony and Ryan to the game. Two of my cast members who recently started dating picked up and left- they were having their first fight.
Krista & Sean- playing with sand from the floorof The Bungalow at the cast party...
Moving from bar to bar, we found ourselves at a cheezy night club called Polly's Kettle. The bar serves 'kettles' (kool-aid with a shot of soju) in two liter bottles with the top cut off. Classy place. It being Canada Day, I was quite happy that I was not presently up to my ears in boxes and could take in the Canadian music blasting from the speakers. As 'Home for A Rest' started, the confused Americans cleared the way and all the Canadians took to the dance floor. Our honorary Canadians, Mackenzie and Sean put in a good effort, in spite looking a little confused by the madness that surrounded them. Krista and Sean (her boyfriend and my cast mate) got into a fight about something or other and both soon vanished from the bar- leaving Mackenzie and I with our Stage Manager, Craig. It always amazes me how ridiculous actors are within our artificial world. During rehearsals- the show seems to invade every aspect of life- it's all you do and all you think about. Hours of each day are spent lost in thought about themes and characters and relationships. We lose ourselves in the world. We become confused. Where does fantasy end and reality begin? Sometimes it's hard to tell. Your relationships as actors come to mirror the relationships of your characters. The dynamic of each cast was so completely different. The first show was called 'This Is A Play" and poked fun at actors and the world of theatre. It dealt with different types of actors- and funny enough two of the three actors were somewhat like the characters they portrayed onstage. The onstage love/hate relationships mirrored the offstage love/hate relationships. With our show, Krista took care to ensure that there my character would not flirt or have any sort of intimate moments with her boyfriend's character- despite the fact that it left the play unbalanced. This again, mirrored in our personal relationship- or lack thereof. As our party got smaller and smaller with the demands of our ring leader, it got me thinking about friendship. For three months, Ed, Sean and I were so much apart of each others lives and thoughts- yet like the show itself, once the lights go down and the set is symbolically torn apart, the relationships made quickly become faded memories. We only existed to each other for a few short months and when Ed stops being Frank, and Sean stops being Bill- it's all over. If ever we meet again, we'll feel like strangers. Like every other show I've done, promises to keep in touch and nearly tearful good-byes were exchanged, but more admirable were those who could be honest. "I'll never see you again. So good-bye and take care." At least someone brought a little truth to the party with them last night. Like all real relationships, theatre has made me experience quite possibly every human emotion- both onstage and off. There are things I love and things I hate about it. As I contemplate my posting from a few weeks back about the show and the frustration expressed, I have to remind myself that I've always hated the rehearsal process. That it never feels real or complete until opening night. That my quest for perfection in my work is all in vain. No matter how much I grow as an actor and consequently as a person, there will still be room for more growth. Those who knew me in my pre-Fred days (oh-so long ago) know well of my absolute fear of commitment. As terrifying as I find it to commit to a person, it is equally terrifying for me to commit to theatre. Committing means that I've grown up- that I've made a choice. That despite all the hardships that I'll take it, for better or for worse- frustrating directors, painfully challenging roles, long periods of unemployment, lack of control over success or failure, instability- that I'll take it all that for those moments on stage where I feel lost in it. It's been eleven years now since I was first introduced to theatre- eleven years since our first encounter and I wonder if it's time to commit or time to jump ship. Like always, the end of a show leaves me with more and more questions... just when I started to think that I'd put the whole thing to rest.
Playing Dead -I spent the first ten minutes of the play under the sheet hoping not to pass out with the lights shining down on me and cursing the broken air conditioner...
No comments:
Post a Comment