Leigha Horton :: Green room
• • • • •

Friday morning I had my first costume fitting for Titanic – I love, LOVE when costumes are built specially for moi.  The shoes and the corset are pre-fab, but the shoes are crazy comfortable (SWEET) and the corset is hilariously pointy yet surprisingly comfortable.  The rest of the dress is fantastically utilitarian, yet still within the fashion-confines of the era.  I love the snug bodice and high-waisted skirt. I shall temporarily abstain from passing judgment on the sleeves.

Another mark in The Column of All Things Cool is that I was given the shoes to take home and start breaking in.  I’m sure we can all remember my, um, “issues” with costume shoes.  Seriously – a month in advance – how often does that happen?!  I wore them this morning while I did the dishes.  I love our costumer.

As for things I don’t love – I do not love how harrowing the research can be.  I was reading A Night to Remember in bed Sunday night and couldn’t keep from sobbing – one chapter in particular just pushed me right over the edge, and it was a two-handkerchief ordeal from that point forward.  Accidentally woke my mate.  I have heretofore resolved to banish any and all Titanic research from the reading-at-bedtime ritual.  Jane Austen prevails.

A few months back I joined the staff of the Science Museum of Minnesota in preparation for their upcoming Titanic exhibit, for which I and nine other actors will portray actual crew members of the famed, fated ship. We are split up amongst those who survived and those who drowned (and before you even get smart about it, no, there are no zombies – the ones who perished just don’t make it on to a separate part of the exhibit ; there will be no gnashing of teeth nor clamoring for brains).

While I find this whole process and the extensive research involved incredibly intriguing, I find it difficult to talk about this role in terms of a “character.”  Evelyn Marsden, whom I have chosen to study and portray, was a real woman with a real history and a real future and a real experience.  Yet at the same time artistic liberty is a necessity, as the information available about her is scant and the unexpected questions from visitors will be endless.  I think this lands squarely in the camp of Historical Fiction…a new venture for me.

We start rehearsals a week from today and I’ll admit I’m a little nervous.  I have a great understanding of the overall picture…it’s just that my retention of the details is not so hot at present.

That and my Australian accent needs some serious work; “CRIKEY!” will only get a girl so far.

I have turned down four gig offers since January due to schedule conflicts.
I have been turned down for one gig due to schedule conflicts.
I hate turn-downs, self-initiated or imposed, due to schedule conflicts.
I want it all.

On the other hand, since last writing here I participated in a two-performance run of Adam Symkowicz’ Captivity Plays, did eleven voice-overs for the Supervalu chain of grocery stores (Albertson’s, Cub, Jewel/Osco, Bigg’s, Shaw’s & Star Market, Hornbacher’s, etc., which should be playing all over the U.S. right now), recorded a tv demo for Nexxus hair care products, formalized my involvement in this year’s Fringe Festival, and started research for my role in the upcoming Titanic exhibition at the Science Museum of Minnesota.

And yet I still feel like it’s not enough; like I’m missing out on something. I’m ravenous. Insatiable.

Perchance this means it’s time to cut the excuses and dedicate myself to my craft; no more coasting.

Kids! Tune in next week to see how long this particular brand of inspiration lasts!

I have been neglectful. A month ago I should have written the equivalent of the Horton Happy Dance upon the introduction of whole, raw carrots to my diet (yeah, yeah, fine – whole until I chew them, smartypantses). Hell, I’m halfway tempted to add that regained ability to the “special skills” section of my resume (yes, actors have a “special skills” section on their resumes – one never knows when her years Irish step-dancing or the time she drove cattle for a week is going to land her a gig). I digress. Carrots and apples and popcorn and, and, and…caramel. Ohmygod, yes. These incredibly wonderful braces-mangling objets du désir.

I, Leigha Catherine Horton, being of dubious “sound mind,” officially endured 18 months of legalized self-initiated torture, and on March 3, 2009, with the determination that my treatment was complete, had my braces removed. I’m like a shiny new raw-vegetable-eating girl with fabulously straight teeth and a brand-new confident smile. Even now, a month later, I go from quiet delight to spazzy-thrilled and back again without notice. A far cry from the generally ill-disposed and/or bitterly pained swings that, um, “colored” the last 18 months. To put it lightly, that shit HURT. But, this process was way, way overdue and I am now stupidly happy.

And okay, so technically I’m not entirely done yet. I have three weeks remaining with the Invisalign on my upper teeth, but they’re damn near perfect now. And I couldn’t be more thrilled. I’d probably cry if I could somehow stop grinning like a silly idiot. It’s wonderful.

UPDATE 4/21/09 (because Meghan made a valid point in her comment):