hello, good friend

My family’s visiting! (Well, my family minus one brother.) Godspell sold out Friday through Sunday, so I hope you’re in possession of tickets. It’ll prove a riotous time.

In other news, this semester’s hitting a significant lull. My roomies and I have resorted to TV-watching, homeworking, and gyming. (Maybe that happens during the final semester. Dramatic deceleration. No complaints here.) For fun, I spent yesterday afternoon chucking ice sheets from my car roof. Today I Swiffered our kitchen. We anxiously anticipate sunshine and all things green. That’s why we’re already planning our spring break excursion to South Carolina.

Of the gym-frequenting: my girlfriends have suddenly kicked their work-out motivations into high gear, and I’m struggling to follow suit. I met them at the gym circa 5pm Wednesday night, and I will probably never venture into that territory again. Now I know where the entire student body hides out on weeknights. From now on, I claim 8am. Maybe. If I can coax myself out of bed.

My fiancé and I would like to use this forum to formally advocate elopement. Bring your parents, bring your sibs, bring your closest, wealthy-enough-to-fly-to-the-Caribbean friends. But, please, consider the advantages of small, private, tan-included affairs.

Sure, you say you won’t budge on hosting anything larger than the mythical “intimate family gathering.” But intimate family gatherings propagate exponentially when they include Great Aunt Mildred (Who is that anyway? She’s apparently related to everyone in the world but me.), who casually mentions the occasion to her Bunko cronies, and word travels to distant acquaintances, who all want inclusion on the please-buy-me-a-gift list, then suddenly you’re inviting your former preschool teacher, your penpal from North Dakota, and your bunkmate from the overnight camp you attended the summer after first grade.

A few days ago we entertained this idea: why not lever our unintentially lengthy guest list (no, seriously, we want y’all there) and request that our friends/strangers/random attendees pool their money and pay for our first year of rent? See, even if we do receive these lovely household items, we’ll have nowhere to store them. That’s because we don’t own an apartment. And that’s because we can’t find a single one-bedroom domicile in Baltimore-D.C. suburbia for less than…well, what we consider an atrocious amount of money.

Call it a rude awakening, but we’ve spent the past weekish in irritable states. We blame the housing market.

And while I’m recounting this predicament to my trusty cubicle-mate, Dan, he presents the most brilliant idea yet:

“Well, they make nice tents. That’ll last you at least a year.”

Maybe we’ll haul a pop-up residence to an island flight site. The weather’s certainly nicer.

Last night the actors donned their headset microphones for the first time. The sound system makes such a difference, I think. Especially in a musical. Up til this point, we’ve relied on the actors’ stage voices for projection, but the mikes contribute such a feeling of performance.

Yesterday the cast performed three full run-throughs: one at 10am, another at 1pm, the last at 6pm. By the 6pm rehearsal, they seemed exhausted. Rena, the student director, had difficulty encouraging energy during warm-ups. If you think about it, that kind of non-stop, fully-engaged practicing takes a physical toll on people. Props to them for making it happen.

Today, the actors only run two rehearsals: one at 10am and a second at 1pm.

On Saturday the tech crew runs a wet tech rehearsal at 10am. They’ll run through the entire musical with the actors, checking for functioning microphones, official prop placements, lighting transitions, etcetera. Later the actors will run a sitzprobe, a rough musical rehearsal sans costumes, scenery, and acting. Basically, the actors sing through the musical numbers while the orchestra accompanies them, and Tim Dixon, the conductor, will focus on integrating the two groups.

Here’s my J-term confession: free theatre is a beautiful thing. I would choreograph every musical if it meant attending daily rehearsals. Granted, I’m not doing the grunt work of acting. (Half-guiltily I admit that the difficulty of my job ended about a week ago, after I finished choreographing the dances). Now I get to bask in creative energies and performances gratis.

Opening night: February 7, 8pm. Come see the show!