CategoriesArchivesJanuary 2012 |
Meg's BlogGuiltI received a tweet from Shillz with regards to poker spam. She had voted on a couple of different emails and hasn’t received poker spam on any of them! This warmed my heart for several reasons. First that not only did she vote, but she did so more than once, and I don’t know why but reading that made me smile. Secondly, NO SPAM! Whaahoo! And thirdly, the fact that she took the time to tweet me and let me know. Thanks Shillz! I’ve been feeling guilty every morning when I’d check my email and see all those poker spam things in my spam box, and I’d think of you and how I lead you down the primrose path and to have your generosity and kindness, rewarded thusly (is that a word?). Guilt, every morning served up with breakfast. And for what? You weren’t getting poker spam. Just I was. I can’t tell you how exciting this news was to me. And it got me thinking about guilt. Wondering about how often I feel it when there is no cause? How come I have over-developed the guilt muscle so that I take on the responsibility and embarrassment for things that aren’t even my fault? In big things and small. Someone who I love dies and in my head, I know it’s not logical, but in my heart I feel like somehow, if I had been a better person, more vigilant, more caring, more loving, it would have made a difference and if I had been all of those things, perhaps that person would still be here. J___, obviously, comes to mind. He is always in my mind, these days. Happy memories. Sad ones. What I would do different. And then there is my friend, P__. Hers is not a daily missing. Not anymore. I think of her, off and on. At milestone moments, like my son’s wedding, holidays, when I visit somewhere we used to go. I also think of her, I know this might seem weird, but I think of her whenever I lay toilet paper down on the toilet seats in public bathrooms. She had called me one day, wanting to chat. She was feeling very talkative, the conversation wasn’t our usual fare, she wanted to know if I was happy? I had recently made a huge change in my life and she had been worried, needed to know if I was glad I had. Now, for someone else, this might have been normal conversational, but not for P__. I had known her for around fourteen years and never once had she asked me something like that. She also needed to tell me that things were good with her husband, how much she loved her daughter, how proud she was. That she was happier than she’d ever been. Again, not something she would usually volunteer. She was not a rabble-rouser, a talker. She was shy, quiet, loyal, super-loyal, nervous hands that always were trying unsuccessfully to contain their energy by holding, clutching, wringing each other. She was orphaned young, raised by her grand-parents and the Catholic church. She dyed her hair a shade too dark, her roots growing in way too quick, her make-up stuck in the 70’s, dark eyeliner, clumpy mascara, too much blush. She was hard-working, a dedicated nurse, plump. She was super-smart, but hid it well, from herself and others too, didn’t trust it. But every once in a while some bit of weird wisdom would escape from her lips, and it would be so right, so on, that it would set me back on my heels and I would look at her stunned. Stunned and grateful that I was fortunate enough to have a friend like her. But this particular day, I was wishing, needing to get off the phone. Firstly, her uncharacteristic conversation was making me feel funny. Secondly, Don and I had been just heading out the door to pick up his mother from the airport. I can’t remember if this was the first time I was going to meet Don’s mom or the second, but I was nervous, had been cleaning the house all morning. I did not want to be late. Since our relationship was relatively new, even though we had to leave, Don wasn’t saying anything, just hovering by the front door, keys in hand, waiting. While P__ chatted on and on, my stomach getting in tighter and tighter knots, like time was running out. Finally, I stretched the phone cord so I could stick my hand and part of my arm out the door of my office, gesticulated in Don’s direction. He appeared in the doorway, eyebrows raised. “Help get me off,“ I mouthed, sweating now. This weird panic had taken over my body. Like I had to get off and I had to get off now. “Meg,“ Don called. “We need to go.“ “Okay,“ I fake answered, my voice a little too… I don’t know, felt bad and saved all at once. But she wouldn’t get off the phone, had one more thing to say, and then another. Another non-P__-like behavior. And I didn’t understand why, but I suddenly felt really mad at her, grouchy. Like it was too late. Those were the words that dropped into my head, “it’s too late.“ “I have to go,“ I said, interrupting her. “We have to pick Don’s mom up at the airport.“ “Okay,“ she said, I could hear the fluster in her voice, like she finally got it. More than got it. And instantly, I felt bad. Not so bad that I didn’t hang up. But I thought, I’ll call her back later. Explain. Don and I walked down the walkway toward the car, my stomach still in knots, still inexplicable grouchy, depressed, sad. “I tried and tried to get off the phone, and she wouldn’t let me and now it’s too late.“ Don looked at me odd. “It’s not too late. We have plenty of time to pick up the present for Will at Toys R US and get to the airport.“ I didn’t answer. We went to Toys R US asked about whatever game it was that Will was coveting, the salesperson had to look in the back. And suddenly, I’m filled with panic, like I have to get out, like it’s too late, like I’m trapped, can’t breathe. “Are you all right?“ Don asks me. I want to say yes, but I’m not. We have to leave the store. I have that falling down, going to throw-up feeling. Sweating. Sweating all over. We leave the store. We leave the poor salesperson searching around in the storage area. I’ve never done that in my life. I’m shaking. Can’t stop. We get to the car. “Are you alright?“ Don asks me again. But I’m not. When we get home from the airport, there is a message from a friend. P__ was trying to make a left hand turn off Lougheed Hwy, a truck ran the red light, smashed into her. She was in a coma. They didn’t know if she was going to make it or not. After six weeks that family made the decision to disconnect her from her feeding tube and a little over two weeks later, she died. 10 years and still I miss her. I think about her, and the fact that if I hadn’t gotten off the phone, or if I had gotten off sooner, maybe she would still be here with us. One of my best friends. I was the last person she talked to, and I was grouchy and waved at my husband to help get me off the phone. Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, January 30, 2012 in Chewing the Fat So sorryI want to apologise to my old time bloggers. Remember way back when, Jenny wanted to play that poker tournament and needed us to vote? And I voted and then waited a few days to see if it put me on a spam list and it didn’t, so then I told all of you and asked you to vote and you did and I was grateful. Well, in the last month or two I have been getting a LOT of spam from poker things in my spam box and every morning when I see some more of it, I feel guilty, because I told you, I hadn’t gotten any spam and I hadn’t! But now I am. And it’s no big deal because I just click delete, but I worry about all of you, doing a kindness for a stranger, and now you are getting poker spam in your spam box. To make matters worse, I think that poker contest was fixed, a publicity stunt, because only the players that belonged to, and were represented by that on-line poker website that was holding the contest, got to play. Coincidence? I think not. So, sorry, to those of you who voted. For the spam. And for all of us getting played. And yes, I know those periods aren’t in the right place. Do I care? No. This is one of the things I love about having my own blog, I can put periods anywhere I damn well please. It doesn’t matter if it’s correct or not. I’m in charge. I get to make the rules. Posted by Meg Tilly on Sunday, January 29, 2012 in Chewing the Fat Victoria theatre writersThank you so much Victoria theatre writers for the honour you have bestowed on me and everyone who was involved with the Blue Bridge production of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf. The Critics’ Choice spotlight award, what a lovely ring that has, feels so wonderful in the mouth. I was out of town. Unaware. Thank you so much. Brian Richmond offered me the chance of a lifetime and I seized the opportunity with both fists. I had no idea how the experience, Martha would change me. Victoria is a town in which theatre is thriving. I am so proud that you embraced our show, supported it so magnificently. It was my pleasure and privilege to have been part of one of the many great theatrical offerings in 2011. Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, January 25, 2012 in Chewing the Fat Getting up early, Bomb Girls and what-notEver since Will, my youngest left home, Don and I have been staying up at night and waking up later and later. We went from heading upstairs around 9:30 - 10 PM to sometimes not getting to bed until 11:30 - 12:30. That meant that we were getting up later and later. Not such a big deal in the summer because the days are so long and it doesn’t get truly dark until 10ish. But now in the winter, it starts getting dark by 3:30 and once it’s dark, it’s much harder to want to leave the house to do anything unless that something is going out to eat. So, the days were zooming by and there was this feeling of not accomplishing as much as one could, of not grabbing life by the balls. But rather like life had me by the scruff of my nightgown and my toes were trailing on the ground behind me. It had to stop. Don and I started the New Year with good intentions. He diligently set the alarm for 7 AM and when it went off, we’d leap from the bed, feeling virtuous. For the next two weeks, we congratulated ourselves heartily on gobbling up each moment of daylight, not squandering it sleeping. Um… but by the third week, things started to slide… and slide… and slide. Today, I had an appointment at 9AM. Someone was coming over to the house. When I agreed to the time we were rising early, it was no big deal. Well, when the alarm went off at 8 o’clock this morning, I was not amused. Staggered out of bed, took a bath, got dressed, ate a banana and waited. At 9:30 I figured, I must have made a mistake with the time. Looked up the old email and sure enough, it was 10:30 that she was coming over. What to do with that freed up hour. Hence, the blog to you. Don’t really have a ton to write about. Monday, Monday, tomorrow’s Tuesday and then the next day is… ulp… Wednesday! And we all know what happens on Wednesday. Around 7:50 PM Don heads downstairs to the TV in the basement, turns the TV on to Global and watches Bomb Girls at 8 o’clock sharp. While I sit upstairs, try not to think about it. Try to keep myself busy. Try not to hear the noise that seeps under the crack in the door at the head of the basement stairs. Try not to worry that he’s might come up stairs and look at me, trying to mask the pity in his face, like okay, he thought the show was good last week, but this week…? It’s weird, to have him watch my stuff. When we first started dating he hadn’t watched my stuff, and that was a bonus, for him to be in love with me, not the person he imagined me to be, because that person up there on the screen, has full-time hair and make-up people and wardrobe making them look as good as humanly possible. There is no way a regular person could compete. Wanted me to be enough. Me, with my messy hair, no make-up and lousy fashion sense. And I was. For 10 1/2 years I have been enough. I let him come to Who’s afraid of Virginia Woolf. He didn’t fall out of love with me. I even had to kiss two people in that play and still he loved me. So, when Bomb Girls started airing, I agreed to let him watch that as well. So, he is watching it and I spend Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday getting a little bit anxious. Not 100% anxious all the time. Monday, mild anxiety, like right now, a slight clenching in my gut, nothing major, nothing I can’t manage, and it’s probably because I’m thinking about it. For most of today, I won’t. Tuesday will be sort of like today, not such a big deal. By noon on Wednesday, I start feeling a little vulnerable, a little small, unsure. By the time he goes downstairs I’ll be acting calm, like it’s no big deal, but my stomach will be in knots and I’ll be slightly clammy under my clothes. I am hoping this Wednesday night, 9PM when he tromps back up the stairs, that he’ll hold me in his arms and tell me how proud he is and what a good job I did and how he doesn’t mind at all what is happening with my character Lorna and Marco and Bob. That he’s okay with it, and understands that that is Lorna and I am Meg and there is a difference, even though, sometimes it might feel like there isn’t. That it is him I love. Him. Don.
Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, January 23, 2012 in Chewing the Fat Are they nuts?!Okay this article made me mad. Are they NUTS? Too much debt is what got America in the mess that it’s in and we’re supposed to follow suit? In the article, on one hand, they say the amount of debt Canadians are carrying is not such a big deal and with the very next breath they say Canadians are approaching the debt levels that Americans were at right before the crash in 2008. I repeat. Canadians are approaching the debt levels that Americans were at right before the crash in 2008 We saw how well that worked out for them. Interest rates at present are very, very low. Average government/provincial bond rates are closer to 5%. Look at your debt. If government bond rose to their historic average, that means any debt you have will rise as well. Ask yourself, “With my income, would I be able to service a 3% increase in my mortgage, my car lease, my home equity line of credit?“ In order for you to pay a 3% increase, you need to look at your tax rate to see what that would really cost you in after tax dollars. For me to service an additional 3% on a $100,000 loan which would mean an additional $3,000 in interest payment due, and that would be around $4,290 of additional income I would need to earn before taxes. That’s just on $100,000. Look at your debt load. Do the math. Figure out how much more you will have to pay if/when interest rates rise. Can you do it? Add to that the fact that the Bank of Canada governor, Mark Carney, just stated that we are losing $30 billion in exports to the US annually. And then goes on to say that it is likely that the U.S. will never return to the glory days of old. I agree him on that. I do not see a way out. The US spends over $4 billion more than it takes in EVERY DAY! Anybody out there ever seen some compounding charts. It’s not going to be pretty. Add in medicare, and aging population that is expecting S.S. to be there when they retire. It’s not looking pretty. And that’s just the U.S., our biggest trade partner. Don’t even get me started on the Eurozone crisis. That is a time bomb just waiting for the right spark. There is no easy way out of that mess. Um… So, the US economy sucks, Europe is ready to explode and when it does, its going to make the 2008 derivative debacle look like an Easter party. Yeah, and all that…isn’t going to have a trickle down effect here in Canada? Give me a break! So, don’t tell us that it’s okay for our debt levels to be rising to these dangerous levels! What a misleading, dangerous article. Everybody, please, get your financial house in order. Do whatever you can to pay down your debt. Don’t be lulled into complacency. And if I’m wrong? Well, hey, there is nothing wrong with having money set aside for a rainy day and being out of debt! Posted by Meg Tilly on Sunday, January 22, 2012 in Chewing the Fat five thingsI was asked, recently, for a list of 5 things. It could be 5 of anything, as long as it was something that was important to me. It’s an interesting exercise. This is what I came up with:
1. When the phone rings and when I pick it up, I hear the warm cozy voice of one of my kids. 2. Going about my busy day and then suddenly, I come across an unexpected moment of beauty. A wild flower growing through a crack in the sidewalk, fast moving clouds, the sunlight making a pale new growth leaf translucent, early morning light reflecting off rain drop clinging to bare branches, walking up to new snow making everything soft and muted and like magic can happen. 3. The ability to walk into a candy store and buy anything I want. It was a daydream us kids had growing up poor. I remember once walking a mile and a half to Mary’s café and back again, because my sister found a penny on the playground. We bought a green spearmint penny bozo. Becky bit it in half carefully, so as not to get slobber on it, and then I got first choice. That half-a-piece of gum was delicious and well worth giving up our lunch hour for. 4. Having friends or family unexpectedly drop by and being able to scrounge through the cupboards and fridge and make a delicious feast out of scraps and bits. Makes me feel resourceful and clever. 5. Having a husband who doesn’t mind if I wake him up in the middle of the night because I had a scary dream or am sad. Also, if my feet or hands are cold, he doesn’t get mad it they accidently touch him. No, he says, “Oh honey!“ and he tucks my feet up between his legs or take my hands and nestles them onto his warm belly and nobody has ever done that before and it makes me feel so loved. Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, January 09, 2012 in Chewing the Fat twitter updateHa! I just posted a picture and did a file and everything. Am I smart or what?! Posted by Meg Tilly on Friday, January 06, 2012 in Chewing the Fat meggamonstahHey! I just did my very first tweet. Feel quite proud because Don was in the shower and I figured it out all by myself. I don’t know why it felt SO daunting. I signed up for it months ago just in case I’d want to tweet someday and I guess today is the day. Now, I know that meggamonstah might seem like an odd tweeting name for me, but as you can see if you are a tweeter (is that a word?) There are already several “Meg Tilly”‘s signed up in the twitter universe and none of them are me. Odd to think that there are all those other people out there in the world with the exact same name as me. Doesn’t make one feel very unique. Anyway I can’t promise that I will tweet often, but who knows, when I got this website I wasn’t planning to blog at all… and look what happened! Also, while I’m on the other-Meg-Tillys subject, my old blogging friends already know that I don’t have a Facebook page, but maybe some of my newer blog buddies don’t. So, for the record, my twitter name, which I may or may not use is meggamonstah and I don’t, do not, never have had a Facebook page/account/whatever you call it. That’s all for now. Maybe I’ll go try another tweet! I wonder if tweeting is like kettle corn, the first mouthful, you’re like, “what’s the big deal?“ and then the next one and you think, “hmmm….not bad.“ And by the third mouthful, you are well and truly screwed and don’t know how you ever lived without it. Well, not totally screwed because you can quit kettle corn cold turkey, but it’s hard. For those of you out there who haven’t gotten hooked, don’t even think about taking that first bite! Seriously. Posted by Meg Tilly on Friday, January 06, 2012 in Chewing the Fat Bomb Girls!I was sitting at my computer, working away when I got two emails in my mailbox. One from Adrienne (the co-creator, co-showrunner and director of the first 2 shows) and the other from my husband Don. They both sent me the same link accompanied by words of happiness and glee. And if any of you are curious as to what all the excitement is about here is the link. For those of you who have no interest in numbers and ratings etc., don’t bother clicking on the link, just want to share with you the headline of the article…CANADA LOVES BOMB GIRLS! I’m not sure there was an exclamation point at the end of the title, but if there wasn’t, there should have been. Thank you to all of you who tuned in! xo Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, January 05, 2012 in Chewing the Fat Happy New Year!
Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, January 04, 2012 in Chewing the Fat Christmas magicThis is the bracelet my sister gave me a year ago. The bracelet that took me by the ankles, flipped me upside down and shook hard. (it’s never too late to be what you might have been -George Elliot)
Can’t believe how much my life has changed. Feel so grateful. Thank you, Jenny! xo Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, December 27, 2011 in Chewing the Fat Hey… guess what?I had admired Michael and Susan’s Christmas extravaganza from afar, not wanting to get beaned by a swinging pear, but the other day I ventured closer wanting to see the details on this partridge of theirs… and behold! And when I confronted them with this latest bit of whimsy, they smiled shyly and confessed. And with a bit more interrogation, I discovered that they hadn’t gone out and bought no stinking partridge! Oh no, not them. They crafted it out of a balloon and papier-mache and a multitude of feathers that would not behave and flew all over the place, getting into places where they had not been invited. Anyway, I was certain that you, my dear readers, would appreciate this latest tidbit, hence, I am typing to you, instead of getting my pies in the oven. I’ve started the pies, but got distracted mid-slice by something or another and now here I am, sitting wrapped in the beautiful apron that my daughter-in-law made for me last Christmas. It is cream-coloured and has little red polka-dots all over it and red ties for the neck and the waist and these adorable wooden red heart-shaped buttons for a decorative touch. Oops… I went off on another detour, I really have to get back to those pies. Not to mention that script… So many things to do. So little time. Never mind, both will be accomplished before I go to bed. I’m off now to peal some apples. Wishing all of you the happiest of Holidays! xo Oh, and my sister Becky, says thanks to all of you who popped by to take a look at her art! Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, December 24, 2011 in Chewing the Fat Um…yes. This is a true storyYesterday, I returned home from a very nice chat with Adrian Chamberlain. Christmas snuck up on me this year and suddenly I realized that the big day was less than a week away and I still had tons to do. I was zipping around the wrapping paper station I’ve set up in the kitchen, humming, God rest ye merry gentlemen let nothing you dismay, turned to get the scissors from the butcher block, when what should I see but a cardboard sign with something to the effect of “No Peaking at your Christmas Surprise or there will be trouble!“ Now, I’m not sure if that was the exact wording, but of course the effect was the same. I ran to the door of course, flung it opened and yelled, “I’m peeking! I’m peeking!“ It’s become a Christmas tradition. Michael and Susan try to sneak over to my house and set up some elaborate Christmas surprise and I delight in foiling their plans and catching them red-handed in their creative Christmas craziness. I could explain to you what I saw, but I made Don take a couple pictures of it instead. I think anyone who has heard/sung The Twelve Days of Christmas will know what is being portrayed here. Hey, I just got an image of the two of them dressed up like Lords and leaping around, arms wafting, faces to the sky, enormous grins on their faces. Oh, then I got a flash of them in Merry Milking Maids costumes, milking cows, Michael looking most disgruntled. I’d better stop and post these pictures before any other images hijack my brain.
I can hardly wait for it to rain! Of course, Don’s not quite so enthused. He nearly brained himself last night, racing out in the dark to pee Scooter… p.s. and not to worry, even though there are a lot of pears swinging and swaying in the wind, they won’t go to waste because after Christmas, Susan’s going to pop them in her fruit dehydrating machine and voila, pear chips to munch the winter months away! Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, December 20, 2011 in Chewing the Fat breaking up the blog jamHi Everyone, Sorry it’s been so long. There’s been so many things I’ve wanted to share with you, but then life ran away with me. And I’m sorry to say that I can’t see my blog visitations improving much until after the end of January. So, here it is an abbreviated update: *We finished shooting Bomb Girls. It was an odd feeling. In the old days, when I would finish a show, we would be well and truly finished. Movies are like that. You do it, you have a great or horrible time, at the end of the shoot, you all promise to keep in touch but that rarely happens, and then you go your separate ways. On to work on new shows, or to tuck back into your cozy/or not so cozy life, dealing with the day to day and all the stuff you let slide when you were working crazy 12-18 hour days. But on Bomb Girls, we were left open ended. Everyone loved how the show turned out, the set, the costumes, the cinematography, the direction, the editing, the acting. The network (Global) couldn’t be more supportive and enthusiastic. They are putting everything and then some behind Bomb Girls and yet…who knows what will happen? No one took the easy route, that’s for sure. They could have placed the show in that vague, blurred edges of that mystical never-never land that is some-nameless-place-some-where-in-North-America. It would have been easier to sell, for sure. But they didn’t. The producers, Adrienne, Michael, Janice, Michael P., Wendy, and the Global contingent, stuck to the brave choice and decided this Canadian story, would be Canadian. Doesn’t seem like a milestone, but it is. I heard a rumour, don’t know if it’s true, that Bomb Girls is the first time they’ve run a Canadian Drama series in Prime Time. Hmmm… just realized, I was going to do an abbreviated version of all my news. Ahem… I have a husband waiting for together time and I told him I was only going to be a second, so I’d better get back to blogging more efficiently. *Bomb Girls will air Wednesday, January 4th 2012 here in Canada on Global TV at 8 PM. It will play for six Wednesdays running. I think (I’m smiling kind of proudly here) that it’s a real good show! And I know I didn’t finish the thought of leaving at the end of the shoot open ended, but that is a longer explanation that I have time for so I’ll try to sneak away from my work and explain it at some later date… Sorry about that. *My sister, Becky, is a wonderful artist, who, for her 50th birthday decided to share some of her art with the world. She has a website if you would like to check out some of her work. I am the proud owner of several Becky Tilly paintings. They are in my writing room and inspire me every time I sit down at my desk. (She has done some amazing sculptures as well, but they aren’t up on her site.) *It is going to be a quiet Christmas this year. Will’s with his dad’s family and Emily’s staying in New York. However, Amy and David will be here and that will be nice, and when they come over they bring Bella, their/Emily’s dog, and so it’s a melding of life now and memories of before all intermingled. *I’ve been getting recognized a lot. It’s funny, I didn’t realize how many people actually attended Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf this summer. I’m quite touched by all the people who have come up to me, telling me how moved they were, how much they loved the show. Surprised me, the response. I figured, a little show, zip in, zip out. Didn’t expect to be a public person again. Didn’t realize how much I had been able to disappear. How nice it was to schlep around in my old sweats and unbrushed hair. Makes me feel a little cautious. Global is running ads for the show. People are seeing them. Is it going to be okay this time? The being looked at, the being known? Hope so. Things are different now. I’m older, hopefully wiser. Don’t have small children anymore whose safety I need to be concerned about. My children are grown, flown far and wide. It’s just me and Don that it effects and he’s fine with it. Doesn’t seem to be getting grouchy about the interruptions. And who knows? Maybe no one will watch the ads and tune into the show? A small part of me, the stick-my-head-in-the-sand, and fairies are real, thinks maybe that is what will happen and gets hopeful about it and daydreams about turning the clock back and disappearing back into my rabbit hole again. But I don’t see how that is possible. The show is really good. Something I believe the entire cast and crew can be very proud of. And I want people to love it, to see, to feel what we felt in making it. To feel the passion, and beauty and complexity of this show, these characters, this situation that we brought to life. So, there is a tiny part, maybe six percent, that hopes the show slips quietly away, but then there is the ninety-four percent that is fiercely proud of all that we’ve done, what we made and wants the whole world to see it! *The reason I’m slacking so badly on my blog side of things is I have a script that is due at the end of January. People (nice people who I don’t want to let down) were already kind enough to agree to wait until I shot Bomb Girls to finish up the script and so I’m really going hell-bent-for-leather (whatever that means?) and then throw in Christmas preparations and hence, my lack of blogging and this lapse will probably continue until I deliver the script. *I’m sure there are other important things that need to be blogged about, but I’ve already gone WAY over the promised, “Just a second, honey,“ so I’m off! * Happy Holiday Wishes to All of You! xo *Hey, I just thought of something else! I’m going to write to Grace (Global publicist extraordinaire) and see if maybe she could email me some of the artwork from the show and I can post it here. Um… I’d better do that tomorrow though. Don’s been more than patient. Bye! Posted by Meg Tilly on Sunday, December 18, 2011 in Chewing the Fat Hey Jenny, here you are! xoJenny called last night, it was rather late, but I was up, lying in bed, with my script and tape recorder learning lines. Next week is going to be a dilly, more than 50% my dialogue for the next shooting block is crammed in to Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. One big scene after another and not the kind of scenes where I listen and look on thinking my thoughts. No, these are the scenes where Lorna is on the rampage, verbal, complex. The upside to this is I will be able to kick back and enjoy the following two weeks which will be the last two weeks we have shooting this mini-series. Be able to waltz in, do a scene here, a scene there, march around the bomb factory, doing my Lorna-thing. But, next week…? Oh mama! Anyway, I was cramming, pulling the sort of hours that I imagine students going for their bar exam do when the phone rang and it was my sister, Jennifer. We had a long cozy chat and she told me all about John’s memorial and how beautiful it was. And listening to her descriptions, it was almost like I was there, with her and my daughter and Sabrina too. Then we talked of other things, Bomb Girls, family, friends. We had been playing phone tag since Wednesday and I figured she had read my Huffington post blog and knew I had been sad, but she hadn’t read that. Wanted to, so I’m going to re-post it on this blog now. So if you’ve read my latest Huff blog then don’t bother reading any further and if you haven’t then feel free to continue reading or not. * * * My agent, Laura Langlie, knows I love reading beautifully written books, so she sent me a galley of Sarah Dooley’s new book, Body of Water. Laura was right. It is beautifully written, the voice strong and true. The problem was, I had to put it down. It was too close to the bone, reminded me of a portion of my own childhood that I wished to forget. And then, the girl’s family is Wiccan and there is nothing wrong with that, many people are. The problem is, I think my mom is Wiccan too. I recognized some of the things in the book, celebrating solstice, the circles of things in her house, the different rocks, some of the things she says. So, not only was this book bringing up memories of childhood, and the not knowing and bad things happening, and having no say, no control, but it was also making me think of my mother now and how I’m not seeing her and how hard it is. Both ways, having contact and not having contact. Neither way, ideal. And when I think of my mother and the chasm between us, I feel like something heavy is sitting on my heart. And I don’t want to open that door. So, I put the book down. Not because it wasn’t good, but because I am in the middle of a shoot and can’t afford to have a meltdown. But still, the portion that I read burrowed in deep and the melancholy came and went all weekend, but I kept it at bay, did a good job, until last night. Waking up after three hours of sleep, my mind started sifting through all the thoughts and emotions that I’d crammed down and ignored throughout my waking hours. My mom, John passing, that I’ll never be able to see him again, the happy memories and the sad ones too, and John’s passing and the distance with my mother all intermingled to become one big giant sorrow all mashed together. And how I found out later that he was asking for me when he died and even though I’d flown out to see him two weeks earlier, I wasn’t able to be there when he passed because I was shooting. And how I can’t go to his memorial service because there’s no way the production can jiggle the schedule, location, crew, actors all locked in. I tried watching TV. Didn’t work. Checked the overnight gold markets, how the stock markets were doing overseas. Didn’t help. Read Investment Postcards From the Edge. Nope. Went to the bathroom and the next thing I knew I was sitting on the toilet and I couldn’t stop crying. Not dainty little elegant tears. No. This was the kind of crying where I couldn’t catch my breath. Noises I didn’t want to acknowledge were coming out of my mouth. Scary, like something had climbed into my body and wanted to split me open wide. Finally, I gave up trying to be good, thoughtful, and climbed into bed and snuggled next to Don. When he sleepily asked, “Are you okay?“ I said, “No” and he turned over and held me while I cried all over his chest. After a total of four and a half hours of sleep, the alarm clock rang way too soon. Staggered out of bed, took a shower, ate some food, and then off to the set. Conversation with Byron in the car: “How was your weekend?“ “Oh fine.“ Same thing when we arrived and Robin greeted the car. I went to the makeup trailer; Regan put my hair in curlers. Then I plod over to Marie Nardella’s chair where she wields her makeup brushes like Picasso, turning ordinary makeup into magic on the face, so subtle. I love sneaking my eyes open just a crack, so I can watch the focused, intent expression on her face when she’s applying my makeup. I can’t open them too wide, because the powder flies up and gets in my eyes, and I also don’t want to make her feel self-conscious, but still, I can’t control myself. It’s like a forbidden treat I can’t help sneaking, because it amazes me how passionate and committed she is to adding her bit, her touch, to my character’s story. Still can’t get over how she watches at the monitors and then flies over, to fine-tune. Marie finished my face, and then it was back to Regan who removed the roller and brushed my hair until it looked like Lorna’s. When she was done I went back to the trailer and got in Lorna’s clothes. It was cold so Kim had left me long underwear, Hot Shots to stick under my clothes and a big down coat to wear until the last moment before the cameras roll when Kara would rush up and rip it off my body and race away again so she wouldn’t be in the shot. I was tired today, a muted sadness lingering from the night. But once we started rehearsing, something happened. It wasn’t a complicated scene, a little dialogue and then Lorna/I had to run and then fall. And we ran Lorna and me. We ran and we fell. Sprawling out. Skidding on our belly, autumn leaves under our body, more leaves making the dancing decent from sky to the ground, the wind dancing too, clouds tumbling in and out, the smell of wet earth and grass, the exhilaration of running hard, fast, the feel of Lorna’s stout heels digging in, flinging me flinging the two of us on the ground again and again. Joy built the more I did it. Running and then hurtling myself up and out, making the landing look good, right, momentarily knocking the breath out of my body, such a happy feeling, almost like flying. After we were done and driving back home, I thought about shooting that scene and how happy it made me, a simple thing like running in the park and throwing myself on the ground on a windy autumn day. As a child I did that kind of thing all the time. Rolling down a hill. Seeing how far I could jump. Splashing through a creek, trying to make the biggest wettest splashes ever, collecting tadpoles and building a protected area in a portion of the creek by the house so I could go down every day and watch the changes that occur until one day they’d hatch and the little frogs would hop away. Why do we stop running, spinning, jumping, singing out loud just for the joy of it? Why do we care if no one else is? Why should we care if people think we are bonkers? Just because we are grownups we are supposed to stop throwing our bodies on the ground and smelling the earth? Who wrote these rules and why are we following them? And as for Sarah’s Dooley’s book, Body of Water? I’ll finish reading it at the end of November, when Bomb Girls is done.
Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, October 22, 2011 in Chewing the Fat |
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