Words - Poptarts and Shoelaces/ Be Magnificent

I hung out with Maureen last night. We were talking about movies. What would induce us to buy a movie. Maureen says that there are some movies that she would watch over and over again. Like when you were a kid. When I was a kid there was one time when I had a horrible case of strep throat the same time my Aunt Stacey did. So she babysat me. That day I made her watch The Little Mermaid over and over again. As soon as we came to the end I would say "Again!" and we would rewind it and watch the movie again. How she kept from killing me or throwing the movie out of a window I'll never know.

In my grown up life there are some movies that I've wanted to do that with (watch over and over again, not throw out a window) - like Waitress, but I have resisted the urge. What I am unable to resist is to watch certain moments over again. Most notably certain moments with Nathan Fillion in the Firefly TV series, and Johnny Depp in the movie Chocolat saying "I'll come 'round sometime and get that squeak out of your door." As an actor there are certain thing that actors do that just fascinate me; just get me for some reason. The delivery of a certain line, the way they scratch their face, a look, the moment before a kiss, I will rewind and watch, rewind and watch again and again and again. I'll do this wondering how they did it, trying to break down movement and emotion and thought - how did they DO that?

Maureen said that some french photographer had a name for it (I don't remember what the name was). A hand movement, the way the light hit something, the color at the edge of a frame- something that on a personal level lit you on fire.

Carmen had an analogy for somthing similar that happens on stage, but on a broader level. She would always talk about Stradivarius violins. How if you had one Stradivarius in one room and another on the other side of the house you could pluck a string on one and it would vibrate on the other. On stage if an actor feels an emotion - has a moment of emotional truth - then it will pluck the audience's heart strings, that emotion would vibrate within them, and they will feel it, too. They will feel it WITH you. In that breath the whole space will feel it together. I love that. I strive for that. That's what makes the theatre beautiful and unique.

Lately I've been having those experiences with words. There have been certain words that have been jumping out to get me. Well, really, for those of you that know my love of language, this isn't that unusual, but here are the example of the words, or combination of words, that have had a profound effect on me lately.

The first 2 examples happened while I was listening to NPR. Oh, NPR, I will never be able to thank you for all of the inspiration you bring me. I was listening to the BBC and they were interviewing a Marxist who was saying the free market could only exist if there was a symbiotic relationship and that there seemed to be a pattern where every 50 years or so the system would break down and have to be rebuilt and restructured. This got me thinking about symbiotic relationships and how creation happened out of destruction and suddenly I knew how to fix what was wrong with one of my plays. Suddenly I was visualizing a complete overhaul of this play. That and a visual of a broken cathedral from the movie Valkyrie has me now furiously in the midst of an almost complete rewrite of And I Feel Fine.

Then I was listening to NPR and they were interviewing Andy Serkis about his new movie Ink Heart. He talked about that and about Gollum, and then he started talking about a role he has in some upcoming biopic where he plays an aging rock and roller. This guy told people that if he could do it than anyone could, and that what he wanted most for people to do is Be Magnificent. Right there - those two words - and I have a new life philosophy. Be Magnificent. Live your life Magnificently. Suddenly I have been opened to endless possibility. Just think about those two words. Let them roll around in your head for a second. Be Magnificent.

The next 2 examples come from books. I was reading the 4th Twilight book (I know, I tried to avoid it but I couldn't, I'm weak. What do you want?) and the main character was talking about things she had gone without in order to avoid people. In the sentence she ended with two examples phrased exactly like this: poptarts and shoelaces. Read that phrase again: poptarts and shoelaces. Something about the pairing of those three words struck me -like a bolt of lighting - as absolutely beautiful - like cellar door - poptarts and shoelaces. It should be the name of a band or an album or a book or a theory or a play or a theatre or a government institution - poptarts and shoelaces.

The last one is from David Copperfield. (I can read one of the Twilight books in 24 hours but I can only read a couple of pages of David Copperfield a night. Why is that? I love the book, it has nothing to do with a difference in affection. Ah, well, I digress.) I've reached the part where he meets Dora for the first time and falls madly in love with her and is talking about what it would be like to have her love him in return. He says:

" . . . to have reason to think that when she was with other
people she was yet mindful of me,"

What a beautiful little phrase. What a wonderful sentiment. Doesn't that just sum it up? Doesn't that just some up what I want from all relationships, at its simplest, at its core? Even when they are not with me to suppose that they think of me. It's just so simple and hearbreakingly beautiful and, I hate to say it, sweet.

Sweet - another word that has a profound affect on me, but this time adversly. Most of you know I have problems with the word sweet. I don't like it, especially when applied to me. But I've started to be broken down a little bit in my staunchness against it. Mostly because of the read through we had of Metamorphoses - the play I'm getting ready to start rehearsals for. Something about it being read aloud with this wonderful cast really brought it into focus for me: so many of the stories in this play can be described as nothing other than heartbreakingly sweet. Especially the ones that I am involved in. And in those I am paired against a guy who I have been wanting to work with for so long now, I cannot describe to you my absolute joy in being able to play opposite him in these achingly sweet scenes. This is ironic because it was partly him that got me hating the word in the first place.

I was stage managing a show that he was in last year and I would do things like bring him and the actor he was working with water when they had been working for hours moving rocks back and forth. My thinking was it was almost 2am and I didn't want them to collapse, especially since I couldn't fit into their costumes if they couldn't perform the next day. So I brought them water, and he said "Oh, you're so sweet." And I all I could think was "Yuck!" It wasn't sweet for me to bring you water, it was very basic human decency and the least I could do as a stage manager. Say "Thanks" if you want to, but - ugh! - don't call me sweet. It feels belittling. Like a car salesman calling me "Honey."

But the prospect of performing these scenes with him has got me changing my opinion - just ever so slightly. I have the purest of innocent crushes on this beautiful married man purely and innocently based on incredible admiration for his enormous talent and generous spirit and maybe, just maybe, it would be okay if he thought I was sweet. Maybe. Just him, though. And just think it. I probably still wouldn't like it much if he said it out loud.