Created a blog especially for my daily spiritual reflections. Check it out if you want to and maybe even join me in my faith walk. :D
After our preview for "Mga Santong Tao", the cast and our director went to one of the campus kiosks to eat. When we got there, we saw two theatre people hanging out. One of them, whom I shall refer to as K, I have worked with before and know personally. The other one, P, I only know because I've seen some of the plays he directed and also because practically all of my theatre friends know him; in fact, P and K are perhaps two of the most prominent theatre personalities in the university. As my castmates proceeded to join in on P and K's conversation, I simply said hi to K and then left the group to buy food. Don't get me wrong; I wasn't being snobbish by ignoring P or anything like that. I just didn't have any reason to say hello to him. More importantly, HE didn't know who I was. He probably didn't even notice I was there.
Which was why the following exchange took me by surprise:
P: *pointing at me and talking to W, one of my castmates and my director in Series Finale* Ano ngang pangalan niya? (What's her name again?)
W: Ekang.
Me: *looks at them* Huh?
P: Alam mo, magaling kang aktor. (You know what, you're a good actor.)
Me: *looking like an idiot* Uh... Thank you.
P: Napanood kita sa Series Finale e. Napaka-dedicated mo. (I saw you in Series Finale. You were so dedicated.)
Me: ...
At this point, I was wondering if he was mocking me. You see, the Series Finale performance he was probably referring to was the night when I went on stage with basically no voice. Think Macy Grey... minus the singing talent. It was the SINGLE, MOST DREADFUL THING TO EVER HAPPEN TO ME. A theatre actor's nightmare come to life. I tried everything, from forcing myself to drink ginger ale (which tasted awful) to forcing myself to drink tea (which I hate) to spraying my throat with this disgusting lubricant that singers use, but nothing worked. To make matters worse, my friends were watching that night. I was so frustrated I suddenly found myself locked in a bathroom cubicle bawling my eyes out. I didn't want to go on stage but of course, I had no choice. The words "The show must go on," have never felt more true for me than that instance. The show in general went well, thankfully; it was an ensemble play after all and as for me, I did the best I could with what little voice I had. Still, I was completely ashamed of myself for breaking down the way I did that I did not write about it here, hoping time would eventually help me repress the memory.
Which makes the thought of P plainly making fun of me instead of actually complimenting me possible.
But then, after a few minutes in which I pretended to be engrossed in eating my hotdog sandwich yet all the while hyperventilating inside, he suddenly asked me if I write, by which I guess he meant playwriting. Naturally, being the starstruck idiot that I am, all I managed to do was make dumb noises and nod before it even occurred to me that the last time I wrote anything resembling a script was last year when I was physically and emotionally sick. I didn't even finish it; not to mention it was a film script, not a play. Thank God P didn't question me any further. Instead, he turned to W and said,
"O nagsusulat din pala siya! May potential. Alagaan mo naman o." (She writes as well! She has potential. Take care of her.)
And then I died.
Speaking of my imaginary boyfriends, here's what I realized while watching Lost in Austen: Mr. Darcy is such a {insert big superlative here} character that any hot-blooded female wouldn't be able to help but fall head-over-heels in love with him no matter which actor is playing him. Of course I've only seen two Darcys--Matthew Macfadyen in the 2005 movie and Elliot Cowan in Lost in Austen--so I can't say I'm an expert, but I did fall for both Darcys; for the actors, not so much. I guess he's one of those roles that change the people portraying them instead of the other way around, and in my book, that speaks a lot about how well the character was written and developed. To test this "theory", I'm currently downloading the 1995 Pride and Prejudice series with Colin Firth as Fitzwilliam Darcy. I shall keep you posted.
When it comes to love, I want crazy. I want stable, but I also want crazy. Obviously, that's a contradiction right there (and also crystal-clear proof that I'm in absolutely no way ready for a mature relationship). But you know what? It's okay. The way I see it, give me a stage and a role to play and I'm all set.
"I thought I understood it, that I could grasp it, but I didn't, not really. Only the smudgeness of it; the pink-slippered, all-containered, semi-precious eagerness of it. I didn't realize it would sometimes be more than whole, that the wholeness was a rather luxurious idea. Because it's the halves that halve you in half. I didn't know, don't know, about the in-between bits; the gory bits of you, and the gory bits of me."
