And so, we enter... end game.

Of the many many things I really don't care a great deal about, celebrating the New Year is one of those things that ranks highly up there. In the same way that I don't celebrate the first of August, I am not one of these people who goes batty about January commencing. I realise that there's a sense of finality to it; a way to definitively categorise the last twelve months as 'old news' and begin anew, but I would rather choose to do this whenever I feel it necessary, embrace the future at any given time, rather than be inspired by a date-based placebo.

I'll be ending 2009 in the same way I began it. At work. Though hopefully not exactly in the same way, selling some goon a clock who chose not to stop for the countdown, nor to thank me at the end of the transaction. Though I don't care about the New Year, I feel slighted by celebrations occurring just nearby, while I'm stuck beginning my year with random rude dude.

I guess part of my lack of enthusiasm is based on a distinct loathing for the way that the New Year is typically ushered in, among a heaving throng of drunkards, elbowing your way through crowds in places far too loud and crowded, or watching fireworks explode above your head in amazement, as though they haven't been in existence for hundreds of years already. It's a contempt towards crowds, particularly drunken crowds, that sucks the fun out of mass gatherings. Granted, if it was an entire room full of people I knew and liked, that'd be one thing, but trying to find a stark minortiy of familiars among endless inebriated faces really isn't very much fun at all.

Though I do admit, there is one thing that I do enjoy about New Year. And it's one of the reasons that I made this blog entry - this will be my last entry ever, dated with 2009. From here on, each entry will be stamped as 2010 (that's pronounced twenty-ten, by the way). I don't know. I like things growing and aging, so for my ramblings to be growing further apart by something as simple as a four-digit number may be the only particular joy I'll find by midnight. Hey, that's not so bad, is it? At least I found my own reason to celebrate.

Bennie and the Jets

...is the track which is currently on as I make this blog. Simply inspiring stuff. Thought that now was as good a time as any to spew some proverbial thought spew from the noggin, though in actuality nothing is really coming to me at this time.

Basically, I'm giving you a convoluted way of saying that I really have nothing to say at this point, other than to tell you that I'm listening to Bennie and the Jets. Kinda sad, admittedly, but on the plus side at least I'm listening to Elton John.

And watching scenes from Rain Man.

I suppose this could be what you'd call a wasted evening, tacked onto the end of a wasted afternoon and preceded by a morning spent entirely asleep. I really don't use those days off very wisely, do I?

The few acting offers I've been muddling through lately seem to have dried up over the holiday period, so now I'm left to focus entirely on my employment, something that actually pays. Hoorah!

I reckon I have about enough footage to chuck together a really bad showreel by now. There's a very real possibility that a bad showreel could prove more damaging than no showreel at all, so that's kinda why I'm putting it off. All going well however, I should have some footage from Ruby Moon and Alice to add to my arsenal, and besides the exciting opportunity to Youtube those suckers, I'll get a first-hand view of how it translates to film.

In all honesty, I recently got a chance to see my Sid on DVD, but it didn't particularly wow me. Unfortunately, the film in question is from the dreaded matinee, rarely a good thing. The only matinee I'll ever look upon fondly is of course the second Alice matinee, where we managed to turn the show into an interactive experience with the littlies.

Best moment:
Alice - "Twinkle, twinkle, little bat..."
Small child in the audience - "It's twinkle, twinkle, little STAR."

Brilliant. Such a shame that it took four years for me to cotton on that this stuff is a really good market to play on, but at least I got to have that moment. Plus, some really cheesy posing and dancing as the March Hare... Good fun.

Burke's Backyard

I just read the worst review ever.

The complaints were just horrendous. The reviewer didn't seem to understand what is supposed to be happening, which is amusing considering a crowd full of 6 year olds were able to follow it.

She had trouble following the story even though she's read the book a million times and seen the movies (Disney and the 1999 movie) heaps of times! And yet didn't seem to realise that our version actually didn't vary wildly in any way at all.

And when Tweedledum and Tweedledee were singing The Walrus and the Carpenter, apparently the always solid projection of Tim Camilleri and Sean Entwistle weren't good enough. Despite that, the reviewer wanted less screaming. Soooo... more projection, and less projection, right? Of course.

She liekd our kostumes. <3

Either way, I do not give half a shit about Burton's 2010 Alice. The sun does not shine from the asses of Tim Burton and Johnny Depp. People seem to get hyped up over the most ludicrous things.

...And finally, the reviewer has the audacity to compliment one of the actors while secretly panning the show behind her back. That's really low, y'know?

Everything we say has consequences, a lesson our reviewer is slowly learning. And indeed, I wonder how she'd feel if we shared this wonderful review with the people she had just been bagging? Doesn't even have the balls to name the production, as though hiding it in anonymity would make her actions any less heinous.

Moral of the story is, don't blog something that is liable to bite you in the ass.

Why I hate being backstage

Perhaps it's a flippant thing in theatre these days, but it's something I stand by passionately - when you're not onstage, you're dead silent. Some plays it's easier than others, like if you're on for many scenes and you always have to keep an ear open for your cues, but in the last two plays I've been in, Ruby Moon and Alice in Wonderland, most characters only have one scene, and whatever occurs afterwards is of no concern to them.

So what do you get? Conversations. Loud ones. Over what's the goss according to Cosmopolitan or something akin to that. And lord knows, I hate being the shusher. It's a frustrating task, because honest to god, nobody seems to give enough of a shit to stay quiet for more than a minute. It's not a long play. It's two hours, and that's it. Is it too much to ask that, if you really have to talk, that you keep it down?
Maybe I'm just beyond the times, or some sort of anti-social pretentious git. All I know is, I'm here to put on the best damn show possible, and backstage noise can only detract from that.

It's a dying art, that professionalism thing.