Sorry, Kate. You’re Wrong. (A Rebuttal In Pictures) November 23, 2009

In a recent interview with Women’s Wear Daily, Kate Moss said she lives by many mottos, one of which is “nothing tastes as good as being thin feels”.

I have stuff to say about what Kate said.  But before I get to it, here’s what the smart, articulate peeps at Feministing have to say.

And now, my rebutal…

This is me.  I am thin.  I’ve always been thin.  My feelings about my size are complicated enough to warrant any entire post of their own, but this is the distilled version.   From a strictly aesthetic perspective, I like the shape of my body.  I love cute clothes.  But I feel guilty about the size-est, social politics which that make it easier for me shop, simply because I’m slender.   I like being light enough that The Man of Mans can pick me up.   I don’t like when people make baseless, evaluative assumptions about what I eat, how much I exercise or other life-details   I like being able to wear kids’ t-shirts (they’re cheaper).  I don’t like being cold.

Perhaps Ms. Moss is impervious to the trappings of thin privilege.  Maybe she has a more efficient internal thermotast or many expensive coats to counter the chill of low body-fat.  And of course, there’s the millions of dollars.  Still, I have to wonder what has this woman been eating?  In my experience, the world is full of things that taste WAY better than being thin feels.  Behold…

Tiramisu.  Lady Fingers. Chocolate. Creamy Italian cheese.  There is nothing about this that doesn’t taste awesome!

Ice cream from a roadside restaurant.  Trust me, Kate Moss — IT REALLY IS THIS DELICIOUS!  Plus check out The MoM’s tongue technique.  I am hungry…and aroused!

Homemade sundaes!  Best enjoyed with friends, most efficient when ingredients are placed directly into the mouth and mixed there.

Everything I ate in Thailand = How being thin feels x 1,000,000!

Hot chocolate and beers are a delicious source of warmth for cold-blooded skinnies.

Try more picnics, Kate Moss.  No frills eating in the warm sunshine…tastes good. Feels good.

If that doesn’t convince you, come to my house, Kate Moss.  I’ll bake you a delicious, homemade apple pie.  (As long as you understand, it’s the *only* thing I know how to bake).

My little boy after his first taste of carrots.  There is nothing close to this kind of joy in a pair of skinny jeans!

I could fill ten albums with evidence that Kate Moss is wrong.  Being thin is what it is.  Great food tastes spectacular!

FYI — This doesn’t taste as good as any size feels!

Po’ Girl in Rich Girl’s Shoes or BOOT WATCH 2009! November 18, 2009

Life as an artiste-cum-sexpert (no pun intended) is spiritually gratifying.  Good thing, as the financial compensation is meager.  As I wrote in Oreo…I’m po’.

My consumer habits aren’t typical of a struggling artiste.   Especially when it comes to clothes.  I’m a big believer in buying pieces I love, even if the cost of what I love  requires extra penny-pinching.   Some items, I will always buy on the cheap.  For example,  I find little difference in quality between a $60 cotton tank and a $16 cotton tank.  Same goes for socks.

With other pieces, I prefer to buy the best quality item I can afford.  These tend to be wardrobe staples, such as:  jeans, bras, coats, sweaters and athletic gear.

(Full disclosure:  Penny-pinching aside, all this spendy-ness would not be possible, if I didn’t have the Man of Mans bringin’ home the Gs.  He and his madd skillz of mathematics support my po’ ass, 1950’s-style!)

Back on the subject of shopping.  I have never been spendy when it comes to shoes (with the exception of my running shoes).   Despite my belief that quality footwear is a worthwhile investment, , generally speaking, really good shoes are SO expensive, they’ve always been out of my financial reach.

Until now…

I have wanted a pair of  John Fluevog Shoes for years.  Between increased employment, some extra penny-pinching and a birthday subsidy from the MoM, I can now afford a pair of my very own.  These are them.   I’ve already received a hilarious confirmation from the fabulous customer service department that the boots are en route.

I am vaguely ashamed that I’ve conformed so completely to a gender stereotype, but I am hard-core, girl-geeking over the prospect of  new and shiny, fancy footwear!  Until they arrive, I am on official BOOT WATCH:  checking my e-mail obsessively for news of shipping.  I’ve already planned the outfit I will wear the day they arrive.  I am consumerist and kind of pathetic, yet I am SO EXCITED!

As I endure the delicious anticipation that is BOOT WATCH, I invite you to share.   How do you like to spend your cash?   Do you have a tale of extravagance to share or are you unfailing frugal?

Balance and Timing November 11, 2009

Recently, Wayne and I were discussing balance.

According to the Annals of Contemporary Platitudes, balance is the key to eternal happiness.  A blissful ratio between life’s obligations and desires which infuses one with Oprah-like zen wisdom.   You will know you’ve achieved said balance when The Hearst Corporation offers you a self-serving magazine deal.

And then there’s timing.  Apparently it’s everything.  In my life, it’s a dark comedian.   Like many artists, my working life vacillates between drought and overabundance.    When I accepted my current role in The Righteous Tithe, I had nothing else on my horizon.   Then came the dream position at Planned Parenthood.  And then the request to do …Rwanda.  Just like that – a glut of opportunity.

People find balance through moderation.  Knowing their limits.   I know my limits.  I also know that I’m a greedy, hedonist compelled by my desire to do as many cool things as life will allow.   I rarely say no to stuff I want to do.   Then I panic because, AH I HAVE TOO MUCH STUFF TO DO!

While I encourage chaos, the Man of Mans  does his part for universal balance, by picking up my slack.   These past several weeks, he did the lion’s share of the child-rearing while I was attending rehearsal for one of three shows.   That was hard on him.  And it was hard on my little boy, who missed me and didn’t have the consolation of understanding that it was a temporary situation.

Guilt = Icky!  Satisfying work in my field = Yay!  Lack of sleep/downtime = blurg!  Feeling of accomplishment = Sweet!   And it all balanced out.

As October gave way to November, I began to look forward to the end of Crazy Fall ‘09.    I had a birthday to celebrate and more time with family.   Then Timing turned into a bitch.    My little boy came down with a nasty bout of flu.  Long nights up with a fevered toddler who was coughing so badly, he couldn’t sleep.   Then Phil got sick.  Even with the flu, he his share of the night shift and held down the fort when I had to leave for tech rehearsals.   And if that weren’t awesome enough, he actually went out and found me a birthday cake.

By Friday, everyone was on the mend.  The Righteous Tithe premiered and I felt like one lucky girl.   I made it through Crazy Fall ‘09!   That night I went out with my friends and the Man of Mans to celebrate my birthday, the show and life in general.   All was right with the world.

…

Remember the thing about Timing and how she’s a bitch?  She is.  And Saturday evening Timing bitch slapped me with the flu.   I sat backstage at OSSD, layered in sweaters and my North Face Parka, shivering and cursing the playwright for writing a end scene that involved beachwear.  By Sunday afternoon I was a fevered pile of uselessness.   I was given a differential diagnosis of probable H1N1 and assured that my ability to stand unassisted would almost certainly return within a few days.

I called the director to tell him I couldn’t perform that night.   I have never EVER backed out of a performance.  I have guilt, that I’m doing my best to swallow.  I did the right thing.  I would have wound up in a hospital.   Suckpants for me (hospital Jell-o is the WORST!).  And suckpants for my family, who deserve to have me healthy and present, no wasting away on the flu ward.

My ego and my greediness got the better of me.  I thought I could balance three jobs, my family and more.   But ignoring my limits isn’t balance.  Taking my family for granted isn’t balance.  Compromising my health isn’t balance.  Timing is a bitch, but at least she forced me to stop, be still and think about what I’m doing.

Today, I’m recovering.   I’ll be back to life in a day or so.  And it will still be busy.  I’ll continue to work, love my family and do things I enjoy.  But I won’t take on something as ambitious as Crazy Fall ‘09 again.   Balance is an elusive state for a literal and proverbial klutz such as I.   It’s all good.  The last thing I want to see is my face on the cover of Adorkable Quarterly.

 

 

Buzz, Buzz, Buzz November 5, 2009

Here’s the quick and dirty ’round these parts:

This week was my thirty-fourth birthday.   Chronology puts me firmly in adulthood.  I expect my maturity level to catch up any day now.

The Righteous Tithe, opens this Friday at The Ottawa School of Speech and Drama.  Written by my friend and colleague, Doug Phillips and directed by my other friend and colleague, Paul Dervis this political drama has given me an opportunity to trot out yet another accent: joual! If you want to see the show, check out the Upcoming Appearances page for more details.

 

Here’s the awesomely awesome from the Adorkable Blogosphere:

The Ottawa Xpress has nominated the Ottawa Arts Newsletter for best local blog/website!  Props, Jess!

Sterling wrote a play!  In, like, a weekend.  And it’s good!  I’m so inspired by his accomplishment, that even though I have no script,   I am definitely going to apply for this year’s Ottawa Fringe Festival.   Because if Sterling can whip up an awesome script in a weekend…I still probably can’t.  But I can probably write a shoddy script in a couple of weeks and shine it up.

Megan Butcher is sublime.  A former colleague from my Venus Envy days, object of my admiration and an amazing writer to boot.  She will be the feature act the next Voices of Venus, this coming Tuesday.  Sadness, as I will miss this one…but you should definitely go!

Wayne, Sterling, Chantale and her beloved Tim are poised to REPRESENT at the Eastern Ontario Drama League One-Act Festival Next Saturday.   Tim and Chantale, will surely direct the Toto Too crew to glory with their remount of The Soldier Dreams.  Followed by the premiere of Tim’s play, Deliver’d From Nowhere!

 

And Finally:

If anyone is looking to unload their extra Hallowe’en candy, feel free to send it my way.  (I take unfinished pies and cupcakes too!)

Relief November 1, 2009

I love Hallowe’en!   It’s a brilliant amalgam of fashion and candy – two of my favourite indulgences.  If that weren’t enough there are fabulous parties, with awesome people.  Yes, Hallowe’en is for awesome!

I have a big bowl of Tootsie rolls by my side as I write this.  No stereotypically revealing ladies’ costume for me.  No costume at all.  Unless ” Girl Who Punked Out On Hallowe’en” counts, in which case these comfy sweats are ideal.  I lieu of parties, I’ve opted to spend this night at home.   Hallowe’en bashes are always a blast, but right now my couch seems like the greatest place on earth.

Last night was the New Ottawa Repertory Theatre/Match International presentation of I Have Before Me A Remarkable Document Given To Me By A Young Lady From Rwanda. In a previous post, I wrote that I was having a hard time with the project.  In spite of good advice and tremendous support, I continued to struggle.  This past week was especially difficult.  I haven’t been brilliant company for those who’ve crossed my path of late.

Work began early yesterday, with an italian and a second run-through.  To my surprise, I was less distressed than I have been for days.  Instead I felt thankfully numb; an admittedly undesirable state for an actor about to do work. There was some half-hearted  self-chastising about being unprofessional and a coward, but I was relieved that my psyche had found a way to get me through the day without losing my shit.

That lovely numbness dissipated when My Man of Mans, who had planned to make himself available to me for backstage support called to say our babysitting arrangements had fallen through.  His voice on the phone was sombre with concern, because he is the most wonderful.  I assured him I would be fine, even as I my mind was stammering, ‘But…but…but…’and I began to cry.  I would be fine.    Shortly after, I arrived at the theatre.  The staff showed me to dressing room.  It was private and quiet.  I unpacked my costume and my clothes for after the show.   I cried more.

Once we began the technical rehearsal, I’d resolved to be zen.   No one forced me into this situation.  I wasn’t going to flee the theatre or fake my own death.  I would go on, perform and cope with the emotional fallout.  Unfortunately, my bladder did not get the “Be Zen” memo.  As is always the case when I freak out, my bladder was in overdrive.  I made three mad sprints to the bathroom and missed wetting myself by the narrowest margin.

I decided it would be best to avoid liquids altogether during dinner.

And then it was show time.  I listened backstage as people came into the theatre. I eschewed my usual pre-show ritual involves hugging of cast mates and wriggling like an excited puppy.  Instead I found a quiet corner and had a little chat with myself.   I reminded myself, that no matter what happened on stage, I was safe.

‘You’re safe.  You’re safe. You’re safe,’  I was mouthing these words as I walked on stage and found my mark.   The lights came up and we began.

I can’t qualify my performance, except to say that it felt real.   I remembered that Jessica had planned on coming.  At one point I spotted her in the audience and I felt grateful that I had at least one friend close by.   But for the most part, it was hard.   And then it was over.   The numbness returned briefly.  My cast mate had to kind of pull me around during the curtain call.

Backstage, there were a few more tears, but this time it was relief making me weepy.   I changed quickly, wanting to get upstairs and see Jessica before she left.   There was a decent crowd in the lobby, so I didn’t see her immediately.   A few people stopped to introduce themselves and chat about the show, which was lovely.   I was speaking with one women, lanky and familiar silhouette drifted into my peripheral vision.  I looked over at the bar and there was Sterling!  A second later, who should I see heading towards me but Wayne!   I excused myself from my conversation (I hope not rudely) and flung myself at my friends.   I was terribly emotional.  I hugged them ferociously even as I tried not to snot on their coats.  I hadn’t the slightest clue they were coming, but knowing they’d been there meant the world to me.

Eventually I found not only Jessica, but Heather-Marie and other familiar faces.   There were more hugs and of course more tears from yours truly before I was called back to the theatre for a panel discussion.

In addition to the members of NORT, the panel  included Paul Dewar (my local political crush) and a young Rwandan feminist, Louise.  Louise was stunning — articulate, beautiful and passionate.   When the discussion ended, we had an amazing conversation.  Or rather she said brilliant things, while I gushed about how brilliant she was.   She introduced me to another woman, who had borne witness to and survived the genocide.   She and I spoke for a long time, about her experiences, her life now and fun, girly things like fashion.   She gave me the most wonderful sincere hug.  I marveled that someone who had experienced the worst of humanity, could still trust a virtual stranger enough to venture an intimate gesture.

And then finally it was time to come home.   It was late, but my Man of Mans was waiting with open arms.   In bed I told him of the evening’s events, while he massaged my body which was sore from the day’s tension.   I fell asleep.

Today, I can feel my distress retreating.  A while my spirit is willing, my body is worn out from adrenaline surges, bladder crises and all the crying.  And so here I am on All Hallow’s Eve, too tired to get my party on.   And it’s fine.   I’m fine.   For all the struggles, yesterday was a good day.   It reminded me of everything I have.  I have my friends.  I have my family.

I have everything.

Ten Reasons To Vote October 30, 2009

The Ottawa Theatre Network and The Great Canadian Theatre Company are making a gambit for their share of The Aviva Community Fund.

Aviva allots it’s dollars using the time-honoured tradition of the popularity contest.   Any organization can throw their hat in the ring, but only those deemed worthy by the general public will move on to the next round.  It’s like the American Idol of bursaries!

Voting is crazy easy.  Just register, click the button, carry on with your day, get a good night’s sleep, log back on the next day, vote again, etc…

It’s easy! It’s clicky! It’s for a good cause!

If that doesn’t convince you, here are TEN MORE REASONS TO CAST YOUR VOTE:

10. Every time you cast your vote for the OTN/GCTC, you get to see a picture of a big spider.  I mean a REALLY big spider!

9. My mom did it.  You like my mom, don’t you?

8. The bid is listed in the “Stimulate Culture” category.  That’s WAY sexier than the “Add Other Ideas” or “Advancement of Slime” categories.

7. The money will bolster Ottawa’s theatre community in a significant way.  Which means more opportunities for thespians like yours truly.  With opportunity comes money.  And when I have money, I’ll be able to buy you more and better presents.  You like presents, don’t you?

6. The more opportunity I have to work, the less time I’ll have for cooking.  This benefits everyone.

5. You can add ‘patron of the arts’ to the “Interests” section of your résumé.

4. Every dollar funneled into the theatre improves our ability to fight the mimes!

3. Well funded theatre yields an abundance of show-stopping musical numbers!  You like show-stopping, musical numbers, don’t you?

2. My husband voted, then I did nice things to him.  Click a couple of times and someone might do nice things to you….

1. Sterling Lynch will personally buy you a drink for every vote you cast.  And not a cheap drink – we’re talking fancy scotch!

So I reiterate – go, click, vote – and then go see Sterling about your drink!

Fifty Thousand Words…Or Six October 27, 2009

In the times of Nadine P.C (Pre-Child), I used to looked forward to November for two reasons:  my birthday and National Novel Writing Month.

I still look forward to my birthday.

NaNoWriMo or “NaNo” as it’s know amongst participants, had to be put aside in lieu of child-rearing.  My son far surpasses NaNo on the Kick-ass Meter.  Nonetheless, I’ve missed the November writing blitz.  Thanks to  NaNo, I understand the value of quantity over quality.  I have three horrendous, unpublished novels to my credit.  Awwww, yeah!

This year, I’ve watched my son develop from a baby to a little boy.  The demands of parenting are still intense, but slightly less-time consuming than the previous two years.  Which means…I’m still not doing NaNo!  Well, not officially.   I still don’t have time to write a bad novel.  The additional me-time is needed to address the mound of writing I need to do, in order to fulfill upcoming commitments and avoid being a jackass.

But necessity is the mother of invention.  And this mother is the inventor of NaPlaWriMo – Nadine Playwriting Writing Month!  My goal: 50,000 words of  unedited, unconsidered, unseemly scripting.  The challenge of mass wordage and a big dent in my workload.  Two birds. One stone.  Booyah!

And if there’s no objection, I may post some of the inevitable blunders throughout November.  After all, if I can’t laugh at myself, you guys can do it for me.

At any rate, my friend, Bart tuned me in to Six Word Stories awhile back.  It’s the antithesis of NaNo, but it  served as a good warm up for the month,the week before the blitz.  So, in anticipation of NaPlaWriMo I give you my first six word script:

SON: Good soup, Mom.

MOM: Soup?

Anyone else for quick and dirty wordsmithing?

A Little Something About A Balloon October 24, 2009

My ego is like a balloon.  Easily inflated.

All is busyness in the Adorkable realm.  At Planned Parenthood, my youth troupe are gearing up for the Insight Theatre premiere tomorrow night.   Next Saturday evening, Doug Phillips and will take the stage for the reprise of  I Have Before Me…, and the following week, I’m up to bat again in The Righteous Tithe.

All this working and rehearsing and being on stage…makes a girl feel like the pants.  Puff, puff, puff goes the balloon.

Paul Dervis, the artistic director for The New Ottawa Repertory Theatre, has cast me a lot this year.   In three of the four shows we’ve worked on together, I’ve had to affect an accent.    During our most rehearsal for Righteous Tithe, Paul made a point of complimenting my skillz of an actor in front of the cast.

Puff, puff, puff…

“Heh.  Maybe I’m only good if I use an accent,” I quipped.  (FYI, when I feel like the shizz, I start hurling quips).  Paul looks at me and says in a kind, but pointed way “Don’t think I haven’t thought of that.”  And we all laughed

My ego is like a balloon.  It’s gonna get popped.  Because sooner or later, I will walk right into the pin.

Night Fever: Evolution Theatre’s Arabian Nights October 20, 2009

Contrary to my usual M.O. when it comes to rehearsals, I’m quite the little keener. Ooo! Ooo! Here I am! Fifteen minutes early with healthy snacks for all!

I never said I wasn’t gross.

I does say something about Evolution Theatre, that I asked to show up at a rehearsal an hour late, just so I could catch the opening of their latest production, Arabian Nights at The Cube Gallery

I’m a big fan of Evolution! They’re a young company, run by younger artists who are always willing to take risks. If there’s one thing I hate more than being late for rehearsal, it’s being bored. Evolution Theatre is never boring.

I was especially excited for this production. Arabian Nights (written by cool-German-name, Roland Schimmelpfennig; directed by cool-not-German-name, Natalie Joy Quesnel) is a crazy, ephemeral dream-come-fairy tale-come-erotic-drama. But don’t rely on my unwieldy description.

The script is fantastic. I read it this summer, when I was preparing my audition for this production. If you see the play, you’ll notice I wasn’t cast. Suckpants for me, but clearly a good decision. The cast: Richard Gélinas, Brad Long, Stewart Matthews,
Emily Pearlman and object of my adoration, Kate Smith are some of this city’s strongest performers. They tackle the demands of the unconventional script, in addition to a lot of physical work. They make it look nearly effortless, but trust me…it’s not.

Although the actors’ handle the physicality in the piece gracefully, at times the movement was more effective than at others. That may have had something with where I was seated. The audience was divided into three sections: one in the center and two off to the sides. The German Ambassador was in attendance. Sensibly, the PTB at Evolution reserved the most of center seats for His Excellency and his entourage. Wanting room to sit with my entourage (Excellencies Sterling and Wayne), I sat on the right hand side. The majority of staging, seemed oriented towards the center section. My advice, get to Cube Gallery early and sit there.

This play is short at 65 minutes. That having been said, I warn you that it’s dense. There are a lot of non-sequentially connected dots and at the risk of sounding dim, there are aspects of the story (or stories) that would have wooshed over my head, had I not read the script. Which isn’t to say, you need to read this before you see it. Just be prepared to do some active listening.

It’s not a perfect production, but it’s got a lot going for it. And it’s definitely not boring. It runs this Wednesday through Saturday at the Cube Gallery. I absolutely recommend checking it out. Totally worth being branded a rehearsal delinquent!

If All The World’s A Stage, I’ve Been Miscast! October 14, 2009

Most actors I know yearn for a diverse, abundance of roles.  I do.   The chance to inhabit different characters in a variety of situations — that was one of the major selling points when I opted into this career.

Some actors seem to have been gifted with the chops to play any role.  I am not that actor.   I started on this journey with a fairly limited range.  With training, experience (both professional and the general life-type) that range has expanded.  But it’s something I’ll have to work at my entire career.  And even if I were able to channel any person with flawless emotional/psychological accuracy, my physical body is a factor that can only be altered so much.

There’s the black thing.  When you’re a visible minority working in a predominantly white market, there aren’t a lot of opportunities to play the family member.  Even after a stellar audition, few directors are willing put fellow cast members in black-face for my sake.   As for colour blind casting, well, just…no.

I’m in my thirties, but I  have a twelve-year-old’s face that can pass for cute given the right make-up. And that face sits atop a relatively small body.  I look young for my age, especially when you factor in the distance that separates the audience from the stage.   Because of  my long-time commitment to quality undergarments I fill out a sweater pretty well.

Not related + kind of  cute + young(ish) + well-supported boobs = Ingenue

That, more than any other is part that I play.  And this may sound like to lead in to a rant, but really it’s not that bad.   I’ve played the cute, young thing in a myriad of situations.  I’ve been an prostitute, a prude, a killer, all manner of things.  The costumes are usually awesome.   And slowly, I’ve been given a chance to take on other roles.   Next month, I’ll appear on stage as decidedly uncute, forty-something-year-old, which is liek whoa – uncharted territory!

Of course physicality, along with make-up, prosthetic and whatever embellishments a company can afford have the power to transform.  But left to my own god-or-whoever given devices, there’s only so much I can do.  A few years ago, I gave a terrible performance as southern, baptist church lady.   Let it be known that my work was legitimately terrible.  But the first point of entry for the character I was given was, “This woman weighs 300 hundred pounds”.   And I tried.  Oh, how I tried.   But I could not size-up.  As much as I tried to take up space on stage, I could never lose awareness of body that neither looked nor felt three times larger than my own.  That idea wreaked havoc on my performance.  That… and the fact that I blew.

Humans make assumptions/judgments based on visual information all the time.  As such, type-casting seems inevitable.  An audiences social generalizations combined with an  actor’s physical attributes translate into a sort of shorthand.  Conversely,  (Pretentious Artist Alert!)  the director can  subvert the audiences association of Type A = Personality A by purposely casting against type and create a  kind of tension.

So fellow actors — do you find you’re type cast?  If so,  as who?  And for the broader audience,  what sort of assumptions (if any) do people make based on your physical attributes? On a scale of 1 – 10, how would you rate your boobs?

p.s. I read the subject heading somewhere else. (Lest anyone think I’m witty enough to paraphrase Shakespeare in such a topical way).