For lack of a shelf...

As much as it pains me to admit, this week was not very productive in the recreational activities department. Yes, my entire week was consumed with crewing Homestead's production of The Diary of Anne Frank and attempting to cram in two hours of homework into thirty minutes of free time three days in a row. So I hope all none of you will forgive me for this lackluster post.

Reading:

A borrowed script of the play, as our venerable director forgot that maybe the stage crew needed to know when we were supposed to be efficiently moving things in the dark. Thankfully, one of the actors took pity (I begged him to lend me his script) and allowed me access to his script for the length of an advisory-shortened study hall. Needless to say, I doubt I gathered anything of importance as I hunted for scene transitions and furiously flipped pages with half frozen fingers (seriously, why is the cafeteria so cold).

Watching:

The tedious process of applying gels to flashlights. This became a necessity when our lights were too 'dang' bright backstage. So our beautiful tech director found some extra gels (for you non-techies gels are what make stage lights pretty colors) and cut them to the size of the flashlights the crew had scavenged from home.

Listening:

The hushed whispers of the costumers, stage crew members and assistant stage manager. As I was seated against the cool, paint-smeared concrete I was struck by how much their whispers resemble water trickling down a wall. Granted, this was the fourth night into a sleep-deprived stress-filled experience, so any artistic thought, however brilliant (And I assure you, I am aware my analogy is far from accurate, brilliant or even slightly bordering on witty) should be taken with a grain of salt.

I was also made increasing aware of how much yelling makes me flinch. Thankfully this round of stage crew did not include screaming directed at my person, but every time the mellifluous tones of our director sweetly declaring the many short comings of the latest scene filtered through backstage, it was hard to suppress a twinge of apprehension.

Eating:

The lovely meals brought it by the parents of the cast. For some reason every meal seemed to consist of sandwiches (almost always including ham), chips and water. Only one mother thought it wise to provide our production with healthy food. Not that I'm complaining, food was arguably the main thing that kept everyone from biting each others heads off.