ACTING!!!! (The early years...)

My first acting role was as Fred the Dog in my nursery school's production of The Grandfather Clock (or something like that). My character was named after our neighbor and I'd chosen to be a dog myself, but I'm not sure why, as I was pretty terrified of all dogs at that age. I'd drawn a character represenation of Fred on a piece of construction paper around my neck. I couldn't quite remember how many legs a dog had, so I just drew in a lot to be on the safe side. I hit all my marks, barked whenever the clock struck ("BONG, BONG, BONG!!!"), and was, we all can agree, a total hit.

Several years and bit parts later, I finally landed the titular role of Pinocchio in Amelia Earhart Elementary After School Drama Program. I was incredibly nervous, as it was the largest role I'd had by then (and one of the largest to date) and I had ALL these LINES to memorize. I would practice in my bedroom mirror for hours after school, but my nerves were completely wracked by opening night. I tried to calm down by running and jumping all over the house, to which my parents responded by telling me to stop being such a drama queen, which was silly, because that was exactly the point. I still remember the opening monologue...

enter stage left, skipping
I'm on my way, I'm on my way, I'm on my way to school today.
beat, face audience
I'm on my way to school! It's my very first day. I have a new hat that Geppetto made, a new coat that Geppetto made; in fact, Geppetto made me. I am a puppet!

These lines have been stuck in my head for the past 16 years, and I pass the burden onto you, Cyberspace. (After my parents saw the play and understood that I was, indeed, The Star, they said that the running, jumping, and general Drama Queenness was perfectly understandable. "We didn't realize you were the lead." "But I said I was Pinoccio in the play of the same name..." "Yeah, well, you know.")

I played Becky Thatcher in my junior high school production of Tom and Huck. I had to share the role with my friend Alison and there were whisperings that I only got the part because of the convenient character name. This definitely was a breakout role for me as I had my very first on-stage kiss. Rey, the campus supervisor/drama assistant, coached "Tom" and me on how to deal with getting within cootie distance of each other. "It's not a big deal," he insisted. "Just pretend he's your mom. You kiss her, right?" All of Rey's helpful advice was in vain and I didn't actually, physically, touch Tom's cheek with my lips until opening night, and even then, it was debatable.

Next up was Mrs. Stevenson in the One Act Play Festival my sophomore year of high school. The play was called Sorry, Wrong Number, but was basically a playization of the novelization of the film Dial M for Murder. Or did the book come first? Either way, the play taught me all about old phone numbers (Mr. Stephenson's was Murray Hill 40098) and how to screeeeeeam. This was the very first role in which I was murdered!

I played The Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland (my old friend Alison snagged that lead) and received an award for it! According to said award, I was an excellent actor. I don't remember much outside my own excellence, other than the scene where The Queen threw her shoes at her annoying subjects, to which my friend Brian would always say, "Who throws a shoe?" (Austin Powers had recently been in theaters.) The shoe throwing scene was my very favorite because this ritual, until the shoe actually hit someone in the face, and she cried.

I don't remember when I played the old, wise Badger in The Wind in the Willows, but I'd pretty much mentally checked out of school by then. My motivation in that play was to simply not break character whenever I had scenes with Max, who was playing Toad. Max didn't make this easy for me, and triumphantly succeeded in my giggle fit closing night after he entered the stage in a succession of pirouettes.

(Digression: Max's parents were both actors, and his dad was always in the [very impressive] civic light opera. The reviews for his role in Little Shop of Horrors had called him "an actor's actor" and I would sometimes hear him announcing this when I'd call Max on the phone. One time I'd said something like, "Tell him that I am too!!" and he retorted, "No, she's not; she just stands on stage and laughs!!" Touche.)

By the time I was a senior in High School, I had been treasurer, vice president, and ultimately PRESIDENT OF THE DRAMA CLUB! One would think that this level of dedication and, let's face it, pure talent would help me land bigger and better roles, but despite my high profile position, people still had no idea who I was. The jocks had taken wind of the Theatre Department and had infiltrated our sanctuary. This all turned out to be fine, because instead of being cast in Sweet Charity, I was cast in The Bald Soprano (the coolest play ever) as Mary the Maid.

The Bald Soprano, by Eugene Ionesco, was (we learned) based upon a French English-language workbook and most of its lines were directly from the lessons. Our director, Miriam, was a freakishly brilliant person and was able to direct Ionesco's play into complete coherence. It wasn't silly, it wasn't weird; it was funny as all hell and it made total sense. MY role was a small but funny bit, and I was beaten to death at the end. I had a classmate in the drama class who always cheered a little too heartily after I'd left the stage--I could never figure out if he'd enjoyed my performance or he was super stoked on my death.

Coming up next (or whenever): THE MIDDLE YEARS!

Live at Mark Romyn's Thursday Night Combo Show at the Exit Theatre

We played Pop Song '08, Gates of Steel, and Everyday is Like Sunday (complete with sing-a-long!). I messed up a lot, but it didn't seem to matter much. Lynette took pictures.

Spriiiiiingtiiiiiiime...

There must be something said for vitamin D because I just feel like a freaking sunbeam right now. It's in the upper 70s and sunny today, and I just spent my lunch break wandering around the Ferry Building and Justin Herman Plaza. I bought an Asian pear for my break, Ganache for Lips for, well, my lips, and a supercute summertime beanie for the coldest winter we've ever spent.

(Upon eating said pear, I found the insides to be black and mushy, even though the proprietor picked out a "good one" for me.)

I want to remember today because I felt that fuzzy feeling between my heart and my stomach which usually means everything is perfect and I have nothing to worry about. It's nice.

Two very similiar ideas:

My senior year of high school was spent in the guise of Amelia Fletcher: super short hair, oversized glasses, and striped t-shirts. The A-line skirts were usually swapped for brown StaPrests (Alameda still got cold) and I'd top everything off with a hoodie, sweater, or jean jacket. I was walking to school one day, swinging my JAL carry-on bag, thinking I looked so cute, when I overheard two girls behind me:

Girl #1: I like that boy's bag.
Girl #2 (whispering): That's a girl.

CUT TO

Derek and I were walking to catch a train on our way to a Raccoons show. Arm in arm; both wearing normal, super casual clothes. As we crossed Taraval, a dude leaned out of his packed car and screamed, "GAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYY!"

Honestly, I thought at first he had said, "Yay!" and was just really excited to be driving around the Sunset at night. But no, he thought I was a boy. Well, he either thought that I was a tiny, curvaceous boy or that Derek was a gigantic, bearded lady.

Should I be concentrating on the blatant homophobia of the last event, or is it reasonable for me to stamp my foot, arms akimbo, and demand why I've been mistaken for a boy, twice in the past 9 years? Do I need to shrug off the social constructs of gender identity and embrace my androgyny? Do I need to have long hair and a ball gown in which to walk to the train station to be recognisable as a pretty, female lady? Should it matter?

I have a very handsome boyfriend who thinks I'm beautiful. I've been paid to model and I've been cast in acting roles that describe my character as "pretty." I've also been told that while I'm cute, I'm not tall enough to to be sexy or beautiful. Why do the negative comments by people I couldn't care less about negate the feelings of most important person in my life? AND WHY DO I CARE IN THE FIRST PLACE??

Two completely separate ideas:

If I were a Humanities professor, I would have a class entirely about Tales of the City and its influence and mirroring of San Francisco's then zeitgeist. I'd also have a class about Friends and American ideals and morals around the turn of the century (I'd DEFINITELY have that phrase in the bulletin). I'd also have a class comparing and contrasting Red Dwarf and Futurama, and if there's time, another about The Perks of Being a Wallflower and Freaks and Geeks. And also...

The most efficient way to stop a small child from throwing a tantrum is to turn said child upside down and gently sway them from side to side. Kids freaking love to be upside down, and they're usually stunned into happy silence long enough to choke out a few remaining sobs before a reluctant giggle. Turn them ride-side up, and they forget what they were crying about in the fist place. It's not unlike clearing an Etch-a-Sketch. For more serious tantrums, nothing beats a bear hug.

But Becky, why did you decide to start subbing?

I began college with a major in Theater Arts. It started off positively, but I started hearing, "The theater department is your life," several times too many and I had to switch. I mean, yes, I love acting and I loved theatre, but my entire life? They weren't exaggerating either. Those people ate, drank, slept, and made out with The THEATRE. It was impressive, and I really did wish I could do the same, but I'm cynical and lazy and I couldn't swing the curriculum or the social aspect. I became a Humanities major after my second year.

Admittedly, I chose Humanities because I already had a good chunk of credits towards a degree. It was, above and beyond, the easiest and most fun subject I'd EVER studied, and it left me with a new, tingly sensation of enjoying school. Here are a few examples of assignments I had:

1. compare Bladerunner and Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?
2. watch and analyze Tampopo, then compare it to Tokyo Story
3. read and then write about Louis Armstrong's autobiography
4. go to the Legion of Honor and make a website about the Parisian art
5. my senior thesis compared Berkeley's People Park riots to Logan's Run
6. cook and eat indigenous New Orleans food (I made spicy puffed pastry!)

Basically, I learned about interesting things to tell people at cocktail parties. I had no job skills when I graduated. The Humanities program basically taught me how to think, and granted me the power to over-analyze absolutely anything. (Seriously: I can spell out how Ratatouille is an allegory for American imperialism, and you will agree with me.) Because of my vast general knowledge and basic algebra skills, I decided to become a substitute teacher to supplement my erratic acting career.