Dancing in Time And Space – At Sea – [10/31/2015]

Posted on November 2, 2015 by GypsyShaughnessy

TImeandspace“Time and Relative Dimension in Space” Yes, that’s me! A Type 40 T.A.R.D.I.S, I was already a museum piece when you stole me. ~ The Doctor’s Wife, Doctor Who

The costume that was a long time in coming; because I was utterly tired of putting on whiskers every season (although I love Chesh, and I played her well – she’s just had her time for now is all); I wanted something elegant, something lady-like, with a nod to the more quirky side of well…me…

I stumbled on the design completely by accident, I was just looking up Doctor Who memes one day, and lo and behold, there is a Victorian three piece women’s suit…that is every inch a T.A.R.D.I.S. Of course, having such a thing made was leagues out of my price range at the time – even with the discounts that most seamstresses I know are kind enough to give. I tracked down which pattern it was from, and resigned myself to at least another year of Chesh. I wasn’t’ able to scrape together the funds until this last vacation, and even then it wasn’t easy (is anything ever really?)

Two nights before All Hallows I was sitting on the bed watching Tomorrowland and carefully stitching the “Police Public Call Box” ribbon along the upper edge of the bustier (that could not be done earlier because I couldn’t order it that far in advance), about a month before that Amras and I were in Hot Topic in San Diego and I squealed with delight as I found the matching accessories.

Then of course there was the hair…the ever-present, ever-non-co-operative hair. I only do one hairstyle for Halloween, and spiral curls take 45 minutes of twisting and pulling in the salon chair no matter how much care I take with my tresses. But it’s usually worth it. Originally this costume was going to have a top hat, but though the original model pulled off that look beautifully it was simply not going to work for me. Instead I topped the curls with a ‘Police Box’ bow, which had a much better effect.

And since I always do everything in a ‘go big or stay home’ kind of fashion, there were also the accessories to think about. Months ago I ordered two sets of earrings, one TARDIS pair and one ‘weeping angel’ pair; I wore one of each and Tolly wore the other two because she was being The Doctor. I had a proper-sized yale key on a chain around my neck, a high gallifrean design painted across my collarbone and even over the knee socks with the tardis window design on them. And that was the little subtle stuff, the bigger stuff – the sonic screwdriver, River Song’s diary, the pocket watch, those were all in various pockets or being carried. If you knew the show, you knew the costume, if you didn’t – I just had a gorgeous Victorian ballgown.

One of my co-workers described it as ‘exquisite’ and I’m thinking she was pretty much right.

And I had sound effects, because my phone has the sound of the TARDIS engines loaded as one of the ringtone options, all I had to do was set an alarm to go off every 15 minutes and drop the phone in my pocket, it was too loud to hear it at the party of course but so not the point!

Of course, all of those elements take a while to put together. I had the hair done at 5:00, and it was finished by 5:45, after which I went straight to dinner, and after about six times of my asking what time it was (my watch is currently non-fuctional) Amras finally says

You have stuff to get ready don’t you?

Yeah, I have rather a lot to do..

Go! I’ll see you later…have fun!

So I left him and our tablemate to the rest of their supper, cranked up “Time Warp” as loud as it would go, and begged the assistance of my roomie to help me do up lacings and buttons that I was just never going to be able to reach myself. And doing up jacket buttons with nails that just refuse to dry? That’s just not going to happen, I actually had to ask my cabin steward to do it! Because Tolly had had to go up to work.

That said, that is just what I wore for the passenger party. All told the TARDIS is nearly a $700 costume (and it’s probably worth a pretty penny more than that but my seamstress gave me an exceptionally generous rate), and it’s satin…if anything gets spilled on it that’s a good cause for a heart attack. It’s not something I could risk wearing to the crew party, and there is – after all – one costume I never mind repeating.

How to go from elegant to pin-up girl in ten minutes.

The change to Green Fairy from almost anything – even something as elaborate as the TARDIS – does not take me long. I’ve been donning that costume for so long that I could most likely put it together in the dark.

Thankfully, the hair-style fits both costumes (one of the reasons I wear it that way actually) it was a simple matter of unclipping the bow from my hair and shaking the curls down.kyliemoulinrouge_gallery__392x550

The Green Fairy costume was built to withstand the Halloweens I used to go to the bar – it can handle more abuse than even a crew party can throw at it. And, because it’s built on a leotard it’s no more risqué for me than wearing a one piece bathing suit. That said it looks much more risqué than that; I could feel the eyes following me as I walked down the I-95 to the elevator. Normally the attention would kind of cow me, but there are times that you just feel confident, that costume makes me feel confident.

The cool thing for us was that the ‘Cats played the party, our party, the real party which is actually much preferable to playing the public party. The pax party is really a pale shadow to the below decks party; for one thing, we aren’t reserved – because it’s the one place we don’t have to be, and for two, we know how to show a band they’re appreciated. In response to that the musos kick everything up a notch, and I feel the floor start to vibrate under my feet. It always is, and always has been, all about the bass line. All of a sudden I was back at that dive bar that has long since closed its doors, not caring what anyone thought of me, not caring how many eyes were on me (well, except for the ones that perhaps mattered), and just…allowed to be me for the first time in what feels like ages. Don’t think, don’t worry just move and everything else will fall away from you. It had been a long long time.

On whim a few nights before Amras had asked me if I wanted to sing; now keep in mind, singing for a crew party is not quite like singing for any other audience – for one thing it’s much much louder, and for two, there’s so little pressure that even I wasn’t nervous. I just climbed up on the stage, said a tiny little prayer in the back of my mind and looked over at Amras who was grinning at me impishly

Ready?

Let’s do this…

Rrrright now he’s probably slow dancin’ with a bleach-blonde tramp and she’s probably getting’ frisky
Right now, he’s probably buyin’ her some fruity little drink ‘cause she can’t shoot whiskey
Right now, he’s probably up behind her with a pool stick showing her how to shoot a combo…

The tempo kicked off too fast and I found myself almost unable to keep up with the words – no one’s fault, these things happen; and the crowd couldn’t have cared less which is yet another confidence booster; all the crowd cares about is that it’s one of their own up there and they can make as much noise as they want.

Overall, despite the fact that the next day we were all a bit bleary eyed and slow-moving, it did us all so much good.

 

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A Word of Advice – At Sea – [10/30/2015]

Posted on November 2, 2015 by GypsyShaughnessy

librarian1You know, I had someone recently refer to the restrictions put on my job as “nonsense”; I was deeply offended by this and couldn’t exactly put into words why. But I think I know now.

Please note: none of this is a complaint or a call for sympathy, or drama in any way. This is simply facts and an explanation where I think perhaps one is due; and perhaps a minor bit of venting.

This job, this wonderful, roller-coaster, crazy job – it’s not always so perfect. I trust the people I am in contact with at home to know that, to respect it.

Respect the fact that I live on a comparatively small moving vessel wherein nearly my every movement is dictated by someone else; from how I dress (and what time I change that dress at) to when I rise, to when I eat (and, in fact, if I eat), to when I sleep (again if ), to how I socialize. We are, in the end, all run by the bridge team; they run the management teams, who in turn run the departmental teams. We are under near constant scrutiny and while a lapse in judgement may not be addressed immediately, you can seldom assume that it is forgotten.

I do not always have access to the resources that may appear to be at my fingertips from the outside. There are restrictions on when we can patronize the shops, the photographers (especially on formal nights), the port shuttles, the buffet and even the elevators – guests always must come first, and we cannot be seen to do anything that may push ourselves ahead of them, even accidentally. If a guest is looking for a table at the buffet and you are already seated, you are expected to move, if a guest wants their photograph taken, you give up your spot in line. Our job is to make them the priority, and we can never ever violate that. Not for any reason. Not for anyone. Our lives are expected to fit into the slices in between other things, and that is not something that can be changed.

The hours are long; the days – especially the sea days – are stressful. I choose most of the time to only talk about the ‘national geographic’ side of my life, but those of you in my home circle know that there are shadows with the light. I expect – just as anyone has the right to – those restrictions to be respected; there are going to be times when I cannot do something as quickly as I would hope, there are going to be times I cannot maintain communication as easily as I would like, there are times when I would genuinely like to resolve a situation differently and the job does not allow me to. And when I say ‘the job’ I do not mean merely the hours I spend on duty, I mean the job that is my life, as in it dictates the way I must run my life. I start work at 8am I get off work at 10pm, on a sea day that means I put in a 10.5 to 11 hour day; on a port day I usually still work a full 8 – 9 hours, always on in the morning and the evening. As such, despite the fact that my day may have a break in the middle to do things like go to Huaca de la Luna and Tekal and other fantastic places, it still does not end until after 10pm. Those hours I am on duty are spent constantly taking abuse for things I cannot control, assisting people with highly important information that I oft times do not feel comfortable handling, being kept from proper meal breaks because everyone has ‘just one more question’ about how to set up their email, all while trying to maintain some semblance of order in a 5,000 book library that hasn’t been properly inventoried in three years.

When I get home, I crawl into the shower and out again, I turn on the TV and I fall asleep to Smallville or occasionally the evening news; because of the amount of things that are usually on my mind, this does not often occur before midnight, especially when we are on a night with a time change forward. I’m usually tackling those long days on under 8 hours of sleep. 7 days a week.

So please, if it appears that I am unable to make your priorities my priorities, it is not that I do not respect where your needs are coming from, it is not that I do not deeply regret being unable to meet them, it is that I do not have the physical capability of doing so. Just as I try and respect everyone else’s needs and livelihoods, I ask everyone else to respect mine. Just because I happen to live my life in a state of adventure does not mean that it’s easy, does not mean I can drop everything and do what I wish to any more than anyone else. I abide by a set of rules out here that I must obey or I will find myself very quickly not out here at all.

Respect that fact that what I am able to offer you is – at the time I am offering it – the best solution that I can give. Respect the fact that the guilt and remorse I feel for being unable to offer more is genuine.

Do not dismiss me, do not ever call what I do and the world in which I make a living nonsense. Would you want someone to do that to you? Please, just respect me and my livelihood the same way you would wish me to respect yours and everything will be – as my Mum always says – copacetic.

Bright blessings.

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Slug Bugs – Lima Peru – [10-21-2015]

Posted on November 2, 2015 by GypsyShaughnessy

SlugbugSlug bug blue!

No fair, that’s the same one!

Is not!

Is too!

We’re so mature.

But I should probably mention how Amras and I ended up in the back of a taxi playing slug bug to begin with. I hadn’t intended on going on in Lima, I have been once before and the area just outside the port makes me justifiable nervous (Callao is not safe, known fact), and I was thinking that I would just give my IPM to someone and stay in and work on Neverland and continue my Smallville marathon (what are you doing Clark??!?!), however, Amras decided to surprise me and take me out, and with some hemming and hawing (okay not very much) I jumped at it. After all, I’ll go anywhere as long as I have company! And Amras, being a 5’6 guy, can look suitably intimidating, which keeps me from being scared in a location where I don’t speak the language and don’t particularly know the culture.

So off we went. The shuttle ride to the port gate was 25 minutes, because there’s construction in the port, so that in itself was a bit of an adventure; and then of course one gets mobbed by taxi drivers the moment one steps off the gate shuttle.

This was one moment I was exceptionally glad that I did not attempt the excursion alone. You see, ever since my elephant-adventure-turned-frightening-encounter-with –the-Phuket-Taxi-Mafia I have become exceptionally nervous around crowds of aggressive transportation sellers. I let Amras pick the cab – something he has a unfailingly good eye for, and our little trio of the day (us two, plus one other muso) headed toward downtown Lima – where there were many interesting buildings to take pictures of (including one that was blue), and many fuzzy toy llamas, which I did not purchase and think I should get extreme points for not purchasing (cute! Cute and fuzzy!!!).

Of course no one in the entertainment department (with the possible exception of the cast provided they aren’t doing a show) can really go out and stay out – we all have to come back and work for a few hours in the evenings; so we jumped a cab back, put in our evening hours and clocked them out (punch in punch out, some things never change despite the digital age) and then went out again.,

Which is what led to me and Amras playing slug-bug in the back of a cab…because I get nervous in foreign cabs at night (which I think is quite sensible of me), so in order to prevent my knuckles from turning white I started starting out the window.

What’s up?

Shhhh….I’m looking for slug bugs…

Ooooh

This then continued throughout our exploring of Lima over the next day and a half, in between Piscoe sours and photographs and Inka Cola and sneezing as a result of the ever-present Peruvian dust and everything else. And I still say it was not the same blue bug!

 

 

 

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Stars and the Moon – Salaverry, Peru – [10/20/2015]

Posted on October 24, 2015 by GypsyShaughnessy

lunaMesoamerican history was one of my favourite courses in university. This could be partially because of my professor who remains utterly brilliant (we’ve kept in touch), but I think it was more to do with the subject matter. I was used to studying all of this proper, well formed, European art – which, while stunning and detailed and many other things, was far far from the concept of primal.

Mesoamerican is primal. I found it – and still do – utterly fascinating.

That’s one of the many reasons I jumped at the opportunity to go to Tikal in Guatamela, and it was the major reason that Amras and I had long planned to go to Huaca del Luna (Temple of the Moon) while in Peru. Unfortunately, this was not something I thought was going to end up being possible due to the unexpected scheduling of a general drill first thing in the morning. General drills take at least and hour and a half and they aren’t easily excused from, in fact, they’re basically not excused from; and today was a short port. Goodbye sacrificial temple, hello standing on the deck for an hour watching tugs chug around the harbour.

Needless to say, I was somewhat disappointed, and was really quite prepared to just stay in the rest of the day; but Amras convinced me to at least go out and look at the market on the dock, because they have some fun stuff there (ooooh fuzzy llamas!)…

That boy, can keep a secret far too well sometimes.

As I’m minnowing my way through the throng of taxi drivers on the dock I noticed that he’s not behind me, in fact, I notice he’s actually speaking to someone. And it’s not a taxi driver, it’s a proper tour car operator.

It turned out the temple is only 20 minutes away, and he had intended on taking me there all along.

Surprise

Why you…how long have you known we were still going?

And he just smirks.

I’ve been to Peru before, but I’ve never really explored it much; the flagship didn’t offer a lot in the way of big groups of people to hang out with and I didn’t feel quite secure going out on my own, so going beyond the dockside market was a first for me. But it was totally worth it. The drive out to the temple wound through little twisty streets that passed farmlands and cacti side by side with palm trees. Everything seems to bake under the Peruvian sun, and yet unlike some places in the world there are still outbursts of colour here.

The Huaca del Luna stands in what seems like the middle of the Peruvian desert; though if you stand at the main entrance and look behind you you can see the city stretching out into the distance, something I found very surreal.

Unlike the Maya – who are always branded with the human sacrifice brush but didn’t actually practice as much as Hollywood would have you believe – the culture that created Huaca del Luna definitely did participate in ritualistic battle that concluded with ritual sacrifice. It is very eery to stand in the shadow of those adobe walls and stare at the alarmingly bright blue stones that spill down the hill; and know that those are bloodstones, those boulders once ran red. Being sacrificed was considered a great honour, the commoners were not even permitted to watch the ceremony, but I still don’t’ think I would want to hear what was said if those adobe walls could talk.

Because the walls – and the colour on them – are original. Mud, straw, water and shell, crushed into building material and standing longer than some modern structures. The temple is an inverted pyramid; every 100 years (according to the guide, though I couldn’t quite understand the details) they would seal off the completed floor and build a new, larger one above it – using the same paintings and the same designs, just bigger. Archaeologists are sure that there are at least 5 layers below where the current dig is taking place.

As you stand at the top of the temple and look out to the Huaca del Sol (which is not open to the public, and I really wish I knew what was under there!) you look across what used to be a city. All that’s been excavated so far is the basic outlines, and only a few buildings; but that was a city once, a living breathing city where people went about their daily rountine in the shadow of two massive temples that probably ran their lives. It’s a sobering and awesome thought really. Dust to dust and such things. They hope one day to excavate the whole area, and I remember my professor telling me that they believe there was once a causeway that connected both temples, but so far it’s just that smattering of low walls in the middle of the desert, all that remains of an entire culture.

Walking through the temple corridors, with dust in my hair and on my shoes, I remembered just how much at one point I wanted to be an archaeologist. I was all ready to sign up for the courses in university, but they required you to take advanced math, and at the time there was no way I could pass such a thing – so I did art history instead. The closest I could get to digging up the past. Other than performance, that was the only thing I’d ever really wanted to do, though I never really talked about it much. Lately I seem to have been thinking about it more, perhaps because I’ve been lucky enough to visit some amazing pieces of history as of late. Either way, I started vaguely remembering things I thought I had forgotten long ago, faces, symbols, what different rituals might have meant. It’s all very fuzzy in my head, but it’s all there somewhere.

I used to know this stuff.

Once we finished the tour of the temple proper , we wandered through the shaded area of the souvenir shops and I found myself completely caught by a pair of peruvian silver earrings in the shape of a sun and moon. I just stood there staring at them.

See something you like Skittle?

Those, I really really like those.

And I press my finger against the glass to point out which set so that the clerk can take them out so I can look at them.

How much are they in dollars?

Those earrings are now in my ears. Amras spoils me sometimes.

Eventually we did make it to that dockside market just…a little later than expected!

 

Posted in Historical Sites, Northern Exposure 2015, Ports of Call, Summer Contracts, Travel | 1 Comment

From the Deep – At Sea – [10/16/2015]

Posted on October 24, 2015 by GypsyShaughnessy

mer1Hear ye, Hear ye…once more we have summoned forth Neptune and his royal court from the watery depths to pass judgement on the vile pollywogs onboard.

And this time…I knew a lot of the pollywogs.

Before anyone asks, Amras (much to my disappointment) is a trusty Shellback many times over – and even if he wasn’t, it would would not have been worth my while to throw him under the bus. Trust me on this one. Besides, we had more than enough pollywogs, enough that I think we actually had to start turning people away because the list got too long; and a large portion of those were from entertainment. Including over half of our onboard production cast. So needless to say the polly wog cage was suitably loud and dramatic this season.

And it was an actual cage this time around! Unlike on the flagship, where we were at least kind enough allow the wogs to stand up behind their bars; here they set up an actual luggage cage (which are a lot wider than you think) and slug a net over the top so the wogs had to crouch, kneel or sit inside. Of course the net allowed neatly for the pirates to randomly slosh ice cold water over the whole structure, drenching everyone who was cowering inside.

Apparently those buckets were sometimes ice water, and sometimes warm water scooped up from the nearby hot tubs!

And there was one other thing that was different than my previous crossings…which the entertainment manager gleefully imparted during the set-up meeting yesterday

So we have gotten permission from deck and from culinary to use the real stuff. The slime will be gross guys, it’s meringue and spagetti and whatever else the kitchen can find…

And it was. This stuff was the most disgusting slop I had ever set eyes on (or hands in). The good part was you didn’t need much of it to get the job done, which meant by the time we got to the deck cadets who made up the final group, there was plenty left to tip up from the tubs over top of them.

But we had a lot of groups to get through before that happened.

And the first thing you do when you get to your operating table is slop it down, a sight which somewhat terrified the wogs, whose cage was right next to us.

SHUT UP BACK THERE! Can’t you see we’re working!

Of course, once they actually hit the tables, they discover that yes ,we are cruel – that’s the whole thing, no one was nice to us, so why should we be nice to the wogs that come across us? But we’re not that mean, every person who came across my table I said the same thing (in a low voice, so they could hear me but the nearby pax could not)

It’s okay, close your eyes, close your mouth…

That may not sound like much, but when you’re being slimed it’s the most important advice you could receive.

Of course, not all the things we say are nice, and the harder they fight us the harder we are on them. Both Tollie (who at least knew what she was in for) and her fellow youth staff (who didn’t), ended up on my table, to at least one of them I said

I told you “pray you don’t end up on my table!”…guess you didn’t pray hard enough!

Yes, I am occasionally evil. Tollie forgave me of course.

ENOUGH! SEND THEM BEFORE THE JUDGES! For it is up to the ship’s staff to decide, shall they be dunked or shall they survive?

Survive of course means they sit on the edge of the pool and bake, and this is not goop that you want to have to sit covered in for very long. Most people beg for a thumbs down so that they can at least rinse off some of it in the pool…but the pool, as the ceremony goes on, gets murkier and murkier…and eventually turns a rather unappealing colour of green-grey.

The thing is, this group of wogs fought back. You’re totally not supposed to fight back! Lie there and take it, that’s the deal! But they fought back, the fought back hard, in fact one cadet even pitched a pirate right into the water with him…as punishment for such an offense he and the rest of the team were made to go through the sliming tables twice! HA!

As a result of this unexpected battle (though it would have happened anyway), I was covered up to the elbows, I even had goop in my hair at one point. Let’s just say I do not look my best in the pictures that were shot from the bandstand!

Despite the unappealing nature of the pool by this point, there was no way that we were going to traipse back to cabins still covered in this stuff…so the doctors and nurses all look at each other across the water. One cast member, who is wearing the cutsy little nurse outfit that just wasn’t going to fit the rest of us – was elected to go first. She takes a giant step back and shakes her head

Nah-uh! Hit the drink! Come on!

Eventually her fellow medic picked her up and threw her bodily into the pool. The rest of us counted down from five and took the plunge voluntarily, spluttering up to the surface in soaked scrubs that sometimes feel like they’re doing their best to drag us downwards, but at least emerging somewhat rinsed off.

A twenty minute hot shower took care of the rest of it. At least for me. Tollie – being as how she was a wog – had to take about three before the worst of it was rinsed out of her hair. At one point the other youth staff walked by when Amras and I were having lunch later

So did you get clean?

Yeah…it only took about a half hour under the shower

Did you check behind your ears..

How would I have…?

At which point she reaches up and touches behind her ear and her eyes go wide

HOW IS IT STILL BEHIND MY EARS?

Sorry luv, you were on my table

Safe for another season over the equator I should think!

 

 

 

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Butterfly Effect – At Sea – [10/09/2015]

Posted on October 24, 2015 by GypsyShaughnessy

blindfoldWhen we had our regular start of cruise department meeting this week, there were two conspicuous empty chairs: we have no ‘Cats vocalist…nor do we have a drummer. They resigned, mid-contract, the night before a turn-around port…walked off the ship the next morning.

We won’t get replacements until the next port in Mexico.

I think I may still be in some kind of odd shock that someone would do such a thing. Would just drop their team, without a single thought to how it would affect anyone else.

I have said many times before that professionalism is not a paycheque, it’s an attitude. You can have the highest-paying gig in the world, and while I will do my best to respect you, it doesn’t automatically mean that I will consider you a professional.

Out here, actions don’t just speak louder than words, they yell over the din of the day to day. There is never a circumstance in which your actions do not affect others in your life, but when you’re working ship-side your actions don’t just achieve a ripple effect; they are intricately connected to your co-workers. Out here we are all co-dependent. That’s one of the reasons we are required to be so respectful of hierarchy out here, it – to a certain extent – can stop the damage of the butterfly effect. But that’s not the point here.

We have to be able to trust each other, at least as far as work goes. We may not always get along on a personal level (though luckily on this ship most of do), but being able to trust each other in a work environment is absolutely essential when you work in a place like this. You have to know that when you walk onto that floor, or onto the stage, that the band, the team, the cast, whoever, has your back. You have to know that your crewmates are going to be there. In ever y sense.

When someone breaks that trust, the entire department is effected, we all get struck by the hurricane caused by the butterfly wing and as a result we’re somewhat left flying blind. Something like this hits all of us, and it hits hard. It means we start the cruise slightly on the wrong foot, and we start two team members down. It’s not what they did – I’m sure they had their reasons and I’m sure those reasons were valid if only to them – it’s how they did it. 9:30pm the night before a new cruise is not the time to announce you’re leaving the next day. They didn’t even have the common courtesy to tell Amras first, they jumped I don’t know how many links in the chain of command then acted shocked when there was ugly fallout.

We’ll get through it of course, we’ll get a new pair of musos in the next port (we hope), and in the meantime everyone else pulls in and picks up the slack. Amras can drum if he has to, and there is no shortage of female vocalists onboard who can step in and cover a set if we’re asked (though I will admit, I’m a little nervous about the prospect, it’s one thing to know the book inside out – quite another to actually perform it).

But as I said once before a few seasons ago, you can have played the stages of London and sung in Carnegie Hall, you can have a resume as long as the ship and that doesn’t make you a professional; or you could be dancing for pennies and times to a violin on the street corner and be the most professional person in the world.

Sometimes things happen that just really really drive home that difference.

 

Posted in 'Cat Chronicles, Below the waterline, Entertainers, Northern Exposure 2015, Reflections, Summer Contracts | Leave a comment

Uncontrolled Chaos – At Sea – [10/08/2015]

Posted on October 24, 2015 by GypsyShaughnessy

closetCabin inspections are a thing of life out here; your space is only partially your own. Every so often you get a nice little card under your door informing you that a group of stripes will be coming around to inspect your living quarters. You can be in the room, but not asleep or in the shower etc…

When I was on the flagship it was usually the head of department that did this, and often on my morning off; he would poke his head in – see me contentedly watching TV and working on embroidery in a cabin that looked more like a tidy little apartment than a cabin – ask me if there was anything amiss and then go off to the next cabin.

You see, my cabin? It’s somewhat…zen. I pack my own sheets, warm fuzzy comforter, posters, throw rugs, electric candles, water features (though the pump on the fountain is louder than the fountain itself), throw pillows, laundry hamper…heck I even got a shower curtain this season! I take pride in my living space. It’s my safe space, where I do my embroidery and occasionally shut out the world. And as such I have become a bit of a neat freak with it; especially since it is a very tiny room, particularly when you have two people living in it!

While it’s true that this particular contract I may not spend as much time in my room as usual, I do tend to like to spend a lot of time there at during the day. I mean, everyone needs a little slice of space to call their own, no matter how close you are to your loved ones.

Most roomies that I bunk with appreciate and respect this…except the one I had just this cruise prior. If there is a word stronger than slob than this girl was it…clothes everywhere – most of which were never worn; bed never made, you could barely walk in the room. It was a disaster; it looked like a war zone. I couldn’t even bear to be in there much of the time, being around that much clutter somehow stresses me out.

And she didn’t clear any of it up for cabin inspection, even though she was leaving in San Diego and therefore could have simply used the opportunity to pack.

As such, when I pulled open the ‘result of crew cabin inspection’ file that comes around as a follow up I was mortified to see the following next to ‘my’ cabin number

Cabin #Alpha – Youth Staff/Librarian – Cabin Messy – Occupant responsibility

Needless to say, I am EXTREMELY glad that my new roomie is Tolerance (and yes, I gave her that nickname for a reason), Tolli and I have roomed together before, and we’re actually good friends. And she appreciates my shower curtain 😉

It’s the little things…

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Lickety-split – At Sea – [10/06/2015]

Posted on October 24, 2015 by GypsyShaughnessy

splits2I continue to be all about the shock value…at least in some things.

50s/60s ‘prom’ night last night was not the most active one we have ever run, as a result we cut most of the competition events and left it to the band to get people up dancing – which proved to be more difficult than usual. With the exception of the ballads, no matter what, people always dance to the ballads. Sometimes this gig really does remind me of high school in that sense.

At the end of the first slow song we ran the traditional champagne walk. Our current show host doesn’t make do as much craziness as others have – but she still does the same punchline at the end that others have done before her. So, never being quite sure what to expect, I always try and come prepared.

Which means I stretch beforehand. So that when I’m out there in the middle of a semi-crowded dance floor I’m at least somewhat prepared for whatever she might decide to throw at me.

Okay Shaughnessy, grapevine right, two steps forward …180 turn…can you give us a backflip?

In this dress? Hell no!

Okay then, split, how about a split?

Really, I didn’t know she was going to call it, but I didn’t even think about it when she did. Fortunately I was wearing my character shoes, which are not only securely strapped to my feet, but are so worn on their leather soles that they slide without much in the way of encouragement. Without even letting go of the champagne bottle (though I did keep it securely raised up in my free hand…the last thing I wanted to do was have it hit the floor), I let my strong leg shoot out in front of me and dropped straight down. The amusing thing for me is that I hadn’t warned Amras – which usually I do, and he usually gives the heads up to the band, so the first thing I heard even before the audience’s reaction was ,

WOAH!

As the ‘Cats reacted, then everyone else reacted.

I could practically feel the show host grinning, even though her back was to me.

What just happened? Did she actually do the splits?

YES!

Typical Shaughnessy…okay, are you standing in front of someone?

At which point I turn and hand off the champagne bottle to the delighted couple behind me and sashay my way off the floor. The show host just smirked

I saw you warming up, figured it was probably safe.

You figured right. Excellent job of making it look like it wasn’t planned though..

Thanks!

Chances are I will feel it in the morning but hey, some things are worth it.

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Think of Me – Kaui, Hawai’I – [09-28-2015]

Posted on October 24, 2015 by GypsyShaughnessy

PerspectiveOh…whoa…Dale’s here

Who?

I pointed to the show board in the main office, where the supervisors scrawl out the order of all the evening performances.

Dale Kristien, she’s…she’s the one guest ent I get nervous around. Mega nervous.

Why?

Because she is Christine.

At this point I looked at Amras and realized I should probably explain.

Dale originated the role of Christine in Phantom of the Opera in LA, every other Christine cast in that production is somehow based off of her. She’s the one all the others are modeled after. The first time I worked with her I realized I was too in awe to even speak to her…I kind of still am. I mean she’s super nice and all but…

I watched the show of course, it never occurred to me not to. Dale puts on an incredible performance, and it’s clear that she’s still performing because she wants to, not because she ‘has’ to. She was the original phantom’s longest running Christine, and the only one ever to do the show 8 nights a week; I’m sure she has all the bells and whistles she could ever want. But she still loves what she does, so she’s still doing it. Watching her show I feel like a little kid in the front row, looking up at someone that she one day might have a shadow of a chance at becoming…and at the same time feeling like a tiny insignificant little bug.

She closes the show with Think of Me, which I vaguely remembered from the first time I saw it, but I forgot how she sang it. The beginning of Think of Me is – in my completely amateur opinion – the hardest, because at that point Christine is nervous, she’s been pulled out of the chorus and singled out in front of the owners of the opera company after the diva has stormed off stage and refused to perform. In a heartbeat Christine has to give a performance that she knows is going to change the course of her life, all of that has to go into those first few bars…

Think of me, think of me fondly
When we’ve said goodbye…
Remember me, every so often promise me you’ll try…

So she has to sound uncertain, slightly insecure, and at the same time completely vocally brilliant, because after all by the second verse she’s singing in front of the opera audience, being watched – unknowingly – by her childhood sweetheart. She has to resteal his heart with her voice, without even knowing he’s there…

Perhaps needless to say, hearing Dale perform the song makes me cry. What feels like a very long time ago I auditioned for Theatre College, my vocal teacher coached me for almost a year so that I could sail up to the top note, a feat I know I could not accomplish today.

I was relating all of this to Amras after the show, after he told me he was honoured just to share the stage with her. I just shook my head.

I just feel…she makes me feel so insignificant, like a little bitty bug…but you know it does make me feel better to hear even someone like her say ‘I was the right height, the right weight, the right everything at the right time.’…

No one really believes me when I tell them how big a percentage of the business that is, being the right everything at the right time.

When I take you to London – one of these days – I’m taking you to Phantom.

Okay….

When I first had the chance to go, I really wasn’t all that interested, it was one of those shows you kind of go to because you think ‘well I’m in London’ and there are some shows you just kind of have to see while you’re there. So I went, and then I was completely and totally blown away…

And I still am…every time.

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Hitching a Ride into Club 33 – At Sea – [10-05-2015]

Posted on October 9, 2015 by GypsyShaughnessy

hitchingarideI keep my birthdays quiet on ships. I always have. I don’t like to see my name and ID photo splashed across the bulletin screens with the prompt to send me best wishes; I don’t tell the ‘Cats singer for fear that she’ll announce it over the mic at the set, and I always tell the team not to throw me a party. This particular team might fight me on that, I’m not sure…I can never quite tell whether or not my coworkers are serious…

But I’m just not a party person.

So instead the culinary host commissioned a small (and extremely yummy) chocolate birthday cake for me, and Amras and I had dinner at the Italian restaurant onboard. Nice and quiet.

As I’ve gotten older, birthdays have become more intimate occasions than public ones. My friends on the team know, the barista at my office coffee shop knows (so she can give me free coffee…plus, I do consider her a friend), my boss knows, and obviously Amras knows, though he pretends to forget – or to purposely try and put my birthday on the wrong day.

This birthday feels a little…surreal. For one thing I’m celebrating it in the middle of the sea – literally – we’re just over halfway through our trans-pacific crossing. It’s always a bit of an odd experience; I suspect it always will be.

32 was a good year, I was quite content to be 32. I suspect I will be quite content to be 33 – except I’m not 33, I’m 29 with a couple of years interest 😉 Seriously though, 32 was good to me, confusing but good. Every year is its own emotional rollercoaster, and I have come to realize over time that it’s really just what you make of it.

Its’ true that I’m not…perhaps…where I thought I would be at 33. I don’t think anyone ever is. I look back now at the person I thought I would become and realize I’m not even remotely sure whether I would have been pleased with that outcome. It doesn’t matter really, because I ended up somewhere else. As so many of us do.

After all, you just never know where those train tracks are going to take you; and birthdays are odd things – they don’t really matter all that much, they’re just a signpost along the side of the tracks, a way of remembering where you’ve been and how long you’ve been there.

Posted in Below the waterline, Northern Exposure 2015, Reflections, Summer Contracts | 1 Comment