Hamlet: The Series is available in its entirety on YouTube. I put all of the videos into this playlist so you don't have to go searching for them.
I want to say, really quickly, that what probably gets me the most about these videos is that when it gets to the end credits, the special thanks and list of supporters are full of people I know. It melts me every time.
Thank you, guys, for supporting this project. Without you, it would not have happened. I enjoyed it quite a bit, and for the rest of my life, I get to say I was Hamlet once. I could not think of a nicer gift. So thank you!
Showing posts with label thank you. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thank you. Show all posts
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Tuesday, May 06, 2014
May 6 - On My Way...
So this happened today.
I know the who and the why and the how and I think it is really flattering and lovely, and I wish I had said more interesting things about being a woman playing traditionally male roles because I think that is an interesting conversation to have. But in any case, it happened and it feels absolutely lovely. As do all of the comments on various social media outlets congratulating me.
Thank you!
I know the who and the why and the how and I think it is really flattering and lovely, and I wish I had said more interesting things about being a woman playing traditionally male roles because I think that is an interesting conversation to have. But in any case, it happened and it feels absolutely lovely. As do all of the comments on various social media outlets congratulating me.
Thank you!
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
December 11 - Happy Birthday!
So I have this friend named Bill. We've been best friends for I don't even know how long. Seven years? Eight? Something like that. And sometimes all I can say is "Thank God for Bill."
He comes from a really great family. They are some of the most generous, kind people I have had had the privilege of meeting. How many friends do you have where their parents buy you a souvenir when they go on vacation? Their house is always warm and welcoming, though not so much so that visitors feel overwhelmed or uncomfortable. As an introvert, I'm comfortable in their house because it moves at just the right speed.
And coming from this family, Bill himself is a wonderful human being. Sure, he has the mouth of a sailor and drinks like a fish (sometimes, though not as often since he works eight million jobs now), but he is just a genuinely good person. He cares for his family and friends. He participates in their lives and takes an interest even in the seemingly mundane. He supports our crazy habits and while he may grumble about hating people, we all know he secretly loves gatherings.
One of the funniest things about Bill, in my mind, is that he is always surprised to find out that people like him or trust him or have faith in him. I think in his mind, he's still the high school or college kid who just likes to have fun with his friends on the weekend. And he does like that. But he works in special education and he's really freaking good at it. He connects with these kids who may or may not actually connect with other people at all. He treats them like people, instead of writing them off as a diagnosis like so many others are wont to do. He helps make sure they get to live the fullest lives they can live, and he also calls them out on their crap when they need to be called out. It is not at all surprising to me that people like him and trust him with their kids. Had I children, I would absolutely trust them with Uncle Bill.
And on a personal level, Bill is my best guy friend. Every time I think I'm terrible at relationships, I have to remember that even though ours is not a romantic one, it is one of the longest-lasting, best, most important relationships in my life and I don't suck at it. We like enough of the same things that we can geek out together, but we are also different enough that we have opportunities to learn from each other. We've traveled all over the place together and I don't get sick of him. Sure we don't talk about FEELINGS too much, but I know I always can talk to him if I need to and he'll be there, beer in hand, to help me feel better. Or cupcake in hand, as the situation warrants.
Today is Bill's birthday. He's not big on celebrating his birthday, but I, for one, would like to celebrate him. Here's to another journey around the sun, my friend. Thank you for the laughs. Thank you for encouraging and participating in my lunacy. Thank you for making sure I leave my house regularly. Thank you for putting up with my crap. Thank you for learning about baseball (and then becoming a monster sports fan) when you knew that was something important to me. Thank you for sharing your "hard core" sci-fi with me and helping me become a sci-fi junkie. Thank you for the Comic Cons and the road trips. Thank you for "overneath," "anywhen," and "...and that's why they call it an outfit." Thank you for all the darts and table fries. Thank you for just letting me be me. And most of all, thank you for being you. Happy birthday, friend.
And ladies? He's single. Woo hoo!
He comes from a really great family. They are some of the most generous, kind people I have had had the privilege of meeting. How many friends do you have where their parents buy you a souvenir when they go on vacation? Their house is always warm and welcoming, though not so much so that visitors feel overwhelmed or uncomfortable. As an introvert, I'm comfortable in their house because it moves at just the right speed.
And coming from this family, Bill himself is a wonderful human being. Sure, he has the mouth of a sailor and drinks like a fish (sometimes, though not as often since he works eight million jobs now), but he is just a genuinely good person. He cares for his family and friends. He participates in their lives and takes an interest even in the seemingly mundane. He supports our crazy habits and while he may grumble about hating people, we all know he secretly loves gatherings.
One of the funniest things about Bill, in my mind, is that he is always surprised to find out that people like him or trust him or have faith in him. I think in his mind, he's still the high school or college kid who just likes to have fun with his friends on the weekend. And he does like that. But he works in special education and he's really freaking good at it. He connects with these kids who may or may not actually connect with other people at all. He treats them like people, instead of writing them off as a diagnosis like so many others are wont to do. He helps make sure they get to live the fullest lives they can live, and he also calls them out on their crap when they need to be called out. It is not at all surprising to me that people like him and trust him with their kids. Had I children, I would absolutely trust them with Uncle Bill.
And on a personal level, Bill is my best guy friend. Every time I think I'm terrible at relationships, I have to remember that even though ours is not a romantic one, it is one of the longest-lasting, best, most important relationships in my life and I don't suck at it. We like enough of the same things that we can geek out together, but we are also different enough that we have opportunities to learn from each other. We've traveled all over the place together and I don't get sick of him. Sure we don't talk about FEELINGS too much, but I know I always can talk to him if I need to and he'll be there, beer in hand, to help me feel better. Or cupcake in hand, as the situation warrants.
Today is Bill's birthday. He's not big on celebrating his birthday, but I, for one, would like to celebrate him. Here's to another journey around the sun, my friend. Thank you for the laughs. Thank you for encouraging and participating in my lunacy. Thank you for making sure I leave my house regularly. Thank you for putting up with my crap. Thank you for learning about baseball (and then becoming a monster sports fan) when you knew that was something important to me. Thank you for sharing your "hard core" sci-fi with me and helping me become a sci-fi junkie. Thank you for the Comic Cons and the road trips. Thank you for "overneath," "anywhen," and "...and that's why they call it an outfit." Thank you for all the darts and table fries. Thank you for just letting me be me. And most of all, thank you for being you. Happy birthday, friend.
And ladies? He's single. Woo hoo!
Sunday, November 24, 2013
November 24 - Closing
There are always mixed emotions when a show closes. The little annoyances will now come to and end. But these people who you've shared your life and some really intimate moments with over the past couple of months are going to go back to their lives while you go back to yours. And I think we all secretly know that as much as we want to stay in touch, the next shows we do will eat all of our time and we'll just drift apart. I'm not a fan of that process, but it is a very real part of the theater world.
So to the cast and crew of the show we closed today, thank you for a couple of wonderful months. I had a blast working with you and getting to know you. I hope our paths cross again, but even if they don't for whatever reason, it has truly been a pleasure working with you and I'll never forget this show.
Thank you!
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
June 26 - YoM
First off, I want to say that in the past couple of years I have tried very hard to expect very little of this day so that when and if very little happens, it's okay. So I expected very little this morning, but have already received quite an outpouring of love so I want to say thank you for that. Thank you for remembering.
And thank you to my parents because without them, I wouldn't be here. Literally.
Anyway.
I don't want to do a full-on recap of the last year, or another chat about how awesome it is to be vegan now that I am eleven years into what was going to be a one year experiment. Instead I'm going to tell you about a little project that one of my friends thought up. Her birthday was Monday, and she decided to take a selfie every day for one year, starting on her birthday. I told her I would if she did, so I am. I even signed up for Instagram to capture them all and everything. And now that I have shared that link, I should probably fill out a profile so it's not just a sad looking page with one picture on it, huh?
I don't know what I'm expecting to achieve by taking a picture of myself every day. I'm also wondering if "selfie" means "full face picture" every day, or if there is room to play with that a bit. Knowing me, I'll probably play either way, as long as some part of my body is in the picture and I'm the one taking it. But we'll see. We'll see what a year of pictures of me yields. Hopefully something more than just 365 pictures.
Happy Wednesday, everybody!
Oh! And the hashtag I'm using on the pictures, YoM, stands for Year of Me. But it also sounds like yum, which is why we chose it.
And thank you to my parents because without them, I wouldn't be here. Literally.
Anyway.
I don't want to do a full-on recap of the last year, or another chat about how awesome it is to be vegan now that I am eleven years into what was going to be a one year experiment. Instead I'm going to tell you about a little project that one of my friends thought up. Her birthday was Monday, and she decided to take a selfie every day for one year, starting on her birthday. I told her I would if she did, so I am. I even signed up for Instagram to capture them all and everything. And now that I have shared that link, I should probably fill out a profile so it's not just a sad looking page with one picture on it, huh?
I don't know what I'm expecting to achieve by taking a picture of myself every day. I'm also wondering if "selfie" means "full face picture" every day, or if there is room to play with that a bit. Knowing me, I'll probably play either way, as long as some part of my body is in the picture and I'm the one taking it. But we'll see. We'll see what a year of pictures of me yields. Hopefully something more than just 365 pictures.
Happy Wednesday, everybody!
Oh! And the hashtag I'm using on the pictures, YoM, stands for Year of Me. But it also sounds like yum, which is why we chose it.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
June 22 - Music
For a very long time, I've not been playing music. I know it is selfish and cowardly of me, but playing hurt too much.
For those of you who don't know, I had a band backing me up for a while there and I loved them. I adored them. I loved going to rehearsal every week and hanging out with them and making music. And the things they added to my songs made them so much more than I could have ever made the songs on my own. I thought we were amazing. My guitarist and my bassist decided they wanted to do other things, though, so they left the band, and while I totally understood where they were coming from and did not and do not begrudge them their feelings, I was devastated. Losing my band was the worst break-up I have ever experienced.
I do not hold any ill will toward my former band mates for wanting to do other things. I still love all of them dearly. But when I went home, or played a solo show on my acoustic guitar, all I could hear were the parts that were missing. The little guitar riffs that filled in the holes. The bass line that made it funky. The beats that made it sound like my drummer had six arms. And it hurt. It hurt that these new audience members could only hear me and my guitar; they couldn't hear the brilliant musicians I heard in my head. And I missed them. I missed having people to hang out with before my set started and once it was done. I missed having cohorts. I tried to put together version 2.0 of the band, with the same drummer and a new bassist, but we only lasted two or three shows before that iteration fell apart, too. And once again, I was crushed. Two major break-ups in the course of one calendar year was more than I could take, so for all intents and purposes, I stopped playing. I stopped seeking out gigs. I stopped writing new songs. I let the callouses on my fingers fall off and my guitar fell woefully out of tune.
In the past week or so, I found a new musician who inspires me, and I received a lovely email from a fan who likes my tunes. Just me and my guitar. The more I think about it, the more I'm sure he's never even heard most of the stuff I used to play with my band. And maybe it is because Hamlet starts filming tomorrow, so I'm in a rather raw, creative emotional state, but I picked up my guitar again this week. On three different days. And I played until I had divots in my fingertips and my throat was screaming for water. I learned to play a couple of the new musician's songs, and realized I do still remember how to play quite a few of mine (even if I stumble over lyrics now and again). And I remembered why I started to play in the first place.
I missed it. I missed making music, even if they are just sad little tunes I play on an acoustic guitar in my living room, singing so really only I can hear me. I missed the noise. I missed the vibrations. I missed the release. I missed the emotional release. I missed feeling like I was connecting to something primal and human as I sang songs of comfort and songs of pain. I missed making music for the sake of making music.
I'm not saying I'm ready to go back into a studio and start a world tour. But I may have rediscovered a long lost friend at a time when I really need her, and she's helping me feel like me again.
So thank you to the musician and the stranger for the nudge. I needed that.
For those of you who don't know, I had a band backing me up for a while there and I loved them. I adored them. I loved going to rehearsal every week and hanging out with them and making music. And the things they added to my songs made them so much more than I could have ever made the songs on my own. I thought we were amazing. My guitarist and my bassist decided they wanted to do other things, though, so they left the band, and while I totally understood where they were coming from and did not and do not begrudge them their feelings, I was devastated. Losing my band was the worst break-up I have ever experienced.
I do not hold any ill will toward my former band mates for wanting to do other things. I still love all of them dearly. But when I went home, or played a solo show on my acoustic guitar, all I could hear were the parts that were missing. The little guitar riffs that filled in the holes. The bass line that made it funky. The beats that made it sound like my drummer had six arms. And it hurt. It hurt that these new audience members could only hear me and my guitar; they couldn't hear the brilliant musicians I heard in my head. And I missed them. I missed having people to hang out with before my set started and once it was done. I missed having cohorts. I tried to put together version 2.0 of the band, with the same drummer and a new bassist, but we only lasted two or three shows before that iteration fell apart, too. And once again, I was crushed. Two major break-ups in the course of one calendar year was more than I could take, so for all intents and purposes, I stopped playing. I stopped seeking out gigs. I stopped writing new songs. I let the callouses on my fingers fall off and my guitar fell woefully out of tune.
In the past week or so, I found a new musician who inspires me, and I received a lovely email from a fan who likes my tunes. Just me and my guitar. The more I think about it, the more I'm sure he's never even heard most of the stuff I used to play with my band. And maybe it is because Hamlet starts filming tomorrow, so I'm in a rather raw, creative emotional state, but I picked up my guitar again this week. On three different days. And I played until I had divots in my fingertips and my throat was screaming for water. I learned to play a couple of the new musician's songs, and realized I do still remember how to play quite a few of mine (even if I stumble over lyrics now and again). And I remembered why I started to play in the first place.
I missed it. I missed making music, even if they are just sad little tunes I play on an acoustic guitar in my living room, singing so really only I can hear me. I missed the noise. I missed the vibrations. I missed the release. I missed the emotional release. I missed feeling like I was connecting to something primal and human as I sang songs of comfort and songs of pain. I missed making music for the sake of making music.
I'm not saying I'm ready to go back into a studio and start a world tour. But I may have rediscovered a long lost friend at a time when I really need her, and she's helping me feel like me again.
So thank you to the musician and the stranger for the nudge. I needed that.
Saturday, June 01, 2013
June 1 - AWBC
As I was driving through Chicago today, I saw the signs marking the path for the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. Apparently, this weekend is the weekend for that in Chicago.
I've done the Avon Walk twice, and in all honesty, I feel guilty that I don't do it every year. During my training for the second walk, I was hit by a car while walking which didn't really hurt, but I found out during the walk that it did mess with my hip, so I can't walk super long distances all at once (I.e. 20+ miles). But anyway, when I did the Walk, I felt like I was doing something good and helpful and bigger than me. It was a great experience, both times.
This year, I feel particularly bad about not doing the Walk as I know two women fighting breast cancer at the moment. I have danced with them and laughed with them and shared life moments with them. One of these women has a better prognosis than the other, but even so. A breast cancer diagnosis is terrifying, whatever the prognosis. I lost a stepmother to breast cancer and even though I didn't know her long enough to become truly attached, I know how devastating her passing was for my father. I would never wish that on anyone. And I think a part of me was hoping that doing the Walk again would help my friends who are currently fighting the good fight.
To these women, I apologize that I was not out there this year. To all of the people walking and all of the people volunteering at the rest stations and all of the people who put together the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer, thank you. I wish I had bigger words to express my personal gratitude for what you are doing this weekend. You are amazing. You are helping. You are making a difference.
Thank you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)