• Reuters.co.uk: “Star Trek’s Scotty, James Doohan, dead at 85″

Wow. I’m just a bundle of joy today.

My acting instructor from theatre school, Patrick Christopher-Carter, passed away on Monday.

I have moved away from a life in the theatre, but the lessons I learned from him and the singular experience in the theatre that he was able to offer me will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Here are just a few things that I learned from Patrick over the years:

• In theatre, the characters you portray are not ordinary — you are portraying people at the most intense moments of their lives, where their wants and desires are burning most strongly. Don’t sell them short.
• Watch dogs. When they have an objective, they pursue it completely.
• Technique is a necessary tool for the actor. It is the toolbox whereby the actor can find a way into a character or into a scene. But if it’s working, let the technique go and just act. Don’t question the magic.
• Step through the play lightly and quickly.
• There is a difference between finding the comedy in a character and finding the wit in a character. They’re both hard, but for different reasons. The character knows they are trying to be witty. The character doesn’t know they are comedic. The funniest people are often the most serious — what we see as funny is often the most serious and desperate moment of their life.
• If you have a passion for something, the most admirable thing you can do is pursue it fully and completely.
• Learn your body. Learn your voice. It is your instrument.
• Rehearsal is not about getting it right. Rehearsal is about exploration and experimentation. Don’t censor yourself by fixing yourself in one path that you have decided is the right way. Give yourself the freedom to get lost in the woods.

Thank you Patrick. Thank you for The Tempest, Mad Forest, Working, Raging Hormones, Lion in the Streets, Tonight We Improvise, The Star-Spangled Girl, Key Exchange, Welcome to the Moon, Measure for Measure, Romeo and Juliet, and Julius Caesar. Thank you for mask class. Thank you for Christopher Durang. Thank you for introducing me to pesto. Thank you for getting me back to Halifax. Thank you for being my teacher.

Food for thought:

• The Sneeze: “May I Pick Your Braaiiinnnss?”

Good zombie press:

• Words For My Enjoyment: “Why Being a Zombie Has Its Advantages”

Urgh… just gross… really gross… I’m not kidding about the grossness…

• Worth 1000: “When celebrities die and then… undie” (via linkbunnies.org)

Day 1:

I shall begin my journey on the morrow. My spirits are high. I have purchased a camel to serve as transport for myself and my supplies through the desert. (I have named him “Murray”.) God willing, I shall return from my journey through the vast expanse of my brain with some sort of idea for a blog post. I relish the coming adventure.

Day 2:

My journey has begin on an unauspicious note. It seems that Murray does not relish the adventure as I do. I am beginning to wonder if I understood the merchant exactly when he described the beast as “untractable”. (Does that not mean “will not lose a track”? The phrase book is negligent in this area.) Am beginning to wonder at my choice of a camel as a tracking beast. And I am also convinced that camel spit is not conducive to a healthy appetite. However, my spirits remain high. Blog post, ahoy!

Day 3:

Excitement today! Had an encounter with an idea! At first I thought it was the fabled blog post I was seeking, but it turned out to be the memory of where I had hid my car keys. (That’s where they were!) Murray and I had a shared chuckle at that one, let me tell you. (At least I think he chuckled — hard to tell with a camel.) Hopes renewed, we journey on!

Day 4:

My mental landscape seems endless and yet curiously empty, with vast tracks of formless thought and the odd mesa of movie trivia. I have been attempting to map my journey as I go, yet I find the lack of substantial landmarks distressing. Worries gnaw at me when I consider making the return journey. But I soldier on. Murray remains stolid. (What is that smell?)

Day 5:

Murray is no longer speaking to me. I merely endeavoured to introduce him to the concept of mouthwash. Camels seem to have a natural avertion to dental hygiene. Or at least Murray does. I hope tomorrow brings better relations. Did run across the entire lyrics to “Little Bunny Foo-Foo” in the shade of a Joshua tree. Have stowed it in my saddle bag for later examination.

Day 6:

Thirsty. Murray drinks too much water. Has also devolved a taste for my Gatorade. Murray thinks he’s so special.

Day 7:

What a shock! Murray is actually a girl! What I had previously accounted to be woefully inadequate physical “attributes” have actually turned out to be attributes of a feminine nature. Will need to review my previous exchanges with Murrayetta — have I inadvertently offended her with my male camraderie? This puts the whole trip in a whole new light! Tired now. Must sleep. (Does one offer a cameless the choice of pillow? Whole avenues of male-and-female-camel relations are a blank slate to me.)

Day 8:

Ran out of licorice sticks by the Grade-Five English Class Gorge yesterday. Feeling blue. Murrayetta seems inconsolable. Perhaps should have avoided sharing them with her. Damn her alluring eyes. I can refuse her nothing.

Day 9:

Have reached a vast impenetrable canyon, devoid of any concrete memories or impressions. After careful examination, it seems to be the remnants of Frosh Week 1989. The only definite clue is the overwhelming odour of rum and Molson Canadian. Did I really drink that back then? The horror…

Day 10:

Murrayetta is looking at me funny. Not certain if she is determining my worth as a possible mate or as a food source. Either way, my unease grows.

[to be continued...]

(via I can change this later, right?, who had it via ultragrrrl)

Yes. I stole this blatantly. But, genius like this must be shared. It is like a caged bird. I had to free it for the world to partake of its glory.

I can’t stop looking at it. It’s mesmerising.