You'll have to pardon this. Typically my policy for the two blogs I currently post on regularly is that Compendium is for informative, as humorous as I can make them, accounts of my life to inform and entertain a group of friends who have been scattered to the four winds... well, three winds... by college life. Turtle, here, is for my dorky indulgences and fangirl squeeing. Right now, however, I have to let off some steam, so I'm choosing to do it here. I am, as we say, "not in the patronizing mood."
I am in an independent theatre troupe here called, appropriately enough, the Independent Theatre Company, or ITC. We have, to date, performed four of
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cleolinda's Movies in Fifteen Minutes here on campus, and have been pretty well received. We're currently rehearsing "300 in Fifteen Minutes." We are not an official campus group, because we don't want administration regulating where and what we can perform. We find spaces and we set it up ourselves. We have no official leadership-- whoever is directing the current show is in charge, and directorial duties shift from show to show. I am one of the founding members, however, and have spent lots of time and quarters making copies, making nametags, and providing props for all the shows we do. I provide the lightsabers we use as swords (our lack of budget is a running joke which we enjoy), I provide Raptor the Bruce, our mascot-- a small, plastic raptor initially purchased for an aborted production of "Jurassic Park in 15" and since used as everything from a rat to a doggie (see above remark on our budget). Why do I do this? Because it is SO MUCH FUN. I love the people involved, and I love having an excuse to set aside time and be silly, and then bring the pleasure of that silliness to others.
In the fall, when we were rehearsing "Harry Potter in Fifteen Minutes," one of our members-- let's call her (taking a cue from Phoebe Buffay of "Friends") Lulie (this one doesn't have Facebook and therefore a minimal chance of ever stumbling upon this entry)-- abruptly dropped out of the group very shortly before our performance, which was to be for an actual townie audience at a local arts festival-- so, semi-legit, at least. I'd had my doubts about her committment for a while. She complained a lot and didn't seem to be having fun anymore. Like she was looking down on us. Like we were childish and she didn't have time for that shit in her increasingly busy adult life. I expressed my doubts, they were addressed to her, I believe, in some form, and she still refrained from dropping out until the last minute. Now, I will say this for Lulie, she was very busy, would legitimately have had to miss that performance anyway, and sought to provide a replacement (albeit without the approval of the group at large), although that replacement didn't work out. So, okay, fine, whatever. We made do.
Now, we've just started rehearsal for "300." I started noticing the same symptoms of discontent in two of our other members-- let's call them (in keeping with the theme) Betty and Neil. They weren't enthused, they didn't want to reprise "HP15M," they wanted to "waste" as little time as possible in this pursuit. Which, let me just say, makes me
sad. A lot of our group are currently seniors and had to deal with comps and ISes, so we hadn't met in a while, but Monday night, when we did meet, oh man! I quickly realized how much I had missed ITC. I remembered the value of making yourself have fun-- because at those rehearsals, you have fun, regardless of how stressed you are in your outside life. It's impossible not to laugh. And laughing is therapeutic, and being silly is therapeutic, and seeing your friends is good for you. Yeah, it's not Serious Theatre. But it's fun! How is that type of juvenile behavior
bad juvenile behavior? I ask you. I've always been sad for people who "grew up" and stopped being able to have this kind of fun. But, anyway, in Neil and Betty, I recognized the symptoms of people who were "growing up" and I once again had my suspicions that they would soon drop out.
BUT NO! They assured us that they would still be involved, however minimally they were able to. Until this morning, when we got a joint email from them, backing out.
In the beginning, people were brought into ITC on the following basis: can we depend on them to show up and commit and not be drama llamas? A prime example of this is Bryan (that's his real name, because I have nothing but good things to say about this boy). At the last minute, when we were doing "Phantom of the Opera in 15," our Raoul found out very late in the game (obviously) that he would have to attend a funeral on performance day. Bryan was the first person Whitney and I encountered on the walk from his residence to rehearsal that we knew and liked. We threw out, "Bryan, would you like to be in our show?" He said yes. He came to all of the rehearsals, learned all of his lines almost immediately, and was hilarious. When the question of whether to make him a permanent member was raised, there was no debate: of course he was in. We
thought everyone in the group was dependable.
If you're going to be lame and drop out, okay, fine. But WHY must you wait until you are already cast in a show, causing huge inconveniences for everyone? We have to scramble to bring in new people now for our reprise of "HP," because that cast is too big to redistribute parts. WHY must you lie to us and feign interest and committment you don't feel? JUST GET IT OVER WITH AND TELL US YOU DON'T WANT TO BE INVOLVED SO THAT WE CAN GET ON WITH IT. It's so much easier that way for everyone! Now we have to do I don't even know what to get this off the ground, all because you assured us that you were on board, even though we repeatedly asked if you were sure about it! At least Lulie tried to arrange for a replacement, realizing the complications she was causing and feeling badly about that! Why do we suddenly not merit that much respect? And WHY be so dismissive? Sending a brief joint email? Can't you talk to us, can't you at least each speak for yourselves? Okay, it's easier this way for you, great. Just write us off quick as you can.
I really
like Neil and Betty. I really do. They're very cool people. And the next time I see them I'm going to be understanding and nice and tell them it's okay. Which, probably, it eventually will be. I just kind of respect them a little less now-- not for leaving, but for the
way they're leaving.
And then, on top of all that, I find out that NBC is planning to do another chunk of hourlong "Office" episodes next season, which I liked this year, but which many, many did not. Like, even a lot of hardcore fans pretty vehemently disliked them. And there is going to be an "Office" spinoff on right after it, which I am extremely nervous about even though the entire "Office" team is enthused. I don't like the idea of breaking up the best ensemble on television. And now I know that people are going to be bitching and complaining about "Office" overload and spoiling my fun.
AND, along with that press release, comes this:
"
Merlin (Winter Premiere) - Take Camelot, shake it up, add some magic and a bit of Lord of the Rings wizardry and you've got yourself a new Sunday night drama."
My
exact reaction to this was: "Oh, God! Why are you
doing this? Don't you understand I'll
have to watch this?"
NBC, have mercy upon me, and try to make it good. For real. With good writers. Please? I mean, if it's bad
I'll have a certain enjoyment of it, but I don't want the world at large, specifically the viewing audience, to get a horrible impression of Arthuriana. In my view, you're taking on a great responsibility. I have a bad feeling about this.
Sigh. Whenever I start entries like this, I always have doubts when it comes to hitting "post" because I'm afraid that, however few people read my journal, there will be a random surprise visitor and word will get around to the people I'm talking about. I don't want that to happen. So, if you're reading this, please don't let that happen.
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