Since you are a theatre person, I'll ramble about my small forays into theatre.
I wanted to be involved in theatre in college, but I have no voice projection abilities at all, and then the whole stage fright thing that even when I can control the nerves and the shaking, I can't control the sweating and the face-turning-red-as-a-beet. So no onstage for me.
So I went back stage.
My most memorable back stage moment was during the first night of a performance and a scene change that required me to run out onto the dark stage, grab the christmas tree that had just been "decorated" by the players, and tote it off stage. I'm tiptoeing off stage, tree in hand when I hear *bonk...bonkbonk...CRASH* and there's a nice little pile of shattered christmas ball on the floor. And in the next scene, one of the characters has to walk around in footy pajamas.
So I scramble back on stage, luckily behind a couch, and start picking up the pieces of christmas tree ornament and manage to cut my finger...when *FLICK* up come the lights. So I'm lying there, behind the couch, holding handfuls of glass slivers and blood, through the whole scene, because I'd be visible if I tried to crawl past the couch...while the footy pajama girl tried to control her giggles and step around me whenever she had to go behind the couch.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2007-12-28 11:17 pm (UTC)I wanted to be involved in theatre in college, but I have no voice projection abilities at all, and then the whole stage fright thing that even when I can control the nerves and the shaking, I can't control the sweating and the face-turning-red-as-a-beet. So no onstage for me.
So I went back stage.
My most memorable back stage moment was during the first night of a performance and a scene change that required me to run out onto the dark stage, grab the christmas tree that had just been "decorated" by the players, and tote it off stage. I'm tiptoeing off stage, tree in hand when I hear *bonk...bonkbonk...CRASH* and there's a nice little pile of shattered christmas ball on the floor. And in the next scene, one of the characters has to walk around in footy pajamas.
So I scramble back on stage, luckily behind a couch, and start picking up the pieces of christmas tree ornament and manage to cut my finger...when *FLICK* up come the lights. So I'm lying there, behind the couch, holding handfuls of glass slivers and blood, through the whole scene, because I'd be visible if I tried to crawl past the couch...while the footy pajama girl tried to control her giggles and step around me whenever she had to go behind the couch.
...
No more theatre for me, thank you very much.