What’s fun AND challenging is that we have three girls playing Matilda. Three nine-year-old girls. And they all tell the story at very different speeds. And this means that all of our underscoring has to go at different tempos every night so that it still lines up with the story that is being told. But the underscoring still has to be musical; it still has to work as a composition in and of itself. And making it fit with what’s happening on stage while maintaining the integrity of the piece is probably the most challenging thing I’ve ever had to do conducting a theatre orchestra. Probably the most rewarding, too. – Audiences do love this show. I’ve never heard 2,000 people scream for a nine-year-old before, but when Matilda takes her bow at the end of the show the audiences start screaming for her. It makes my heart explode every time it happens. And it happens every time. I think people love the show because everyone can relate to Matilda in some way, shape, or form. And everyone roots for her right from the get-go. You can’t help but cheer her on. Here is a character (a little girl) who is mistreated by almost everyone around her, and yet she perseveres. Who doesn’t root for that?
—  On Tour with Musical Director Matthew Smedal and Matilda The Musical

anonymous asked:

tommy mchardy, christopher robin evans, seb stan

Hmm I wonder who sent this. *cough* Shara *cough*bYOU SUCK

Bed Tommy Mchardy (because I mean he just looks like he’d be good and hyper focused in bed)

Wed Christopher Robin (because I’m gonna teach that boy some shit and he’s gonna be woke and thicc and Imma make sure he gets better movies like Snowpiercer)

Behead Seb Stan (only because he and Margarita are so cute it might make my heart explode and only AFTER the two of them take me to bed because COME ON)

theboleteprincess asked:

Oh gosh what happened, are you okay?

 my mother was angry at the state of my apartment (which she pays for) and began screaming and insulting me and belittling me saying that she didnt care if she made me feel like 2 cents. When i couldnt take anymore i went to the door and told her i’d leave and fucking kill myself while she was on the phone with my father. I fully meant to go through with this threat but when she said and i quote “Go ahead kill yourself i don’t even care anymore” It cut to my very core and i went to my room to try and hide and as i closed the door she came running and began to try and open it which i tried to stop up until i heard the door crack under the strain and let her in. Then she proceeded to yell at me more until i had a massive panic attack. I’m talking clutching chest wishing it would stop because you feel like your heart will explode and you’ll die. All the while this is happeneing she is yelling at me to “just stop it!” “stop this now” and when she saw that wasnt working she said “well when you pass out you’ll breathe normally” and then left to go clean my place leaving me on the floor in a ball, shaking, sweating and sobbing uncontrollably. When i texted my father what she did he said it was her way of showing she loved me…  

Ironically as i was answering this she called me… 

Sometimes late at night I think about all the things that have been, all the things that haven’t been and all the things yet to be. If my heart could explode into a billion tiny pieces and scatter themselves all over the world. If I could live on sunlight and the city sounds and fall asleep in those thousands of lighted windows. I wonder if this world will ever make sense to me, if I will ever truly understand anything… and if there’s really anything to understand at all.
My soul is splayed out for you,
here on this page of splattered ink
and tear drops,
wide open to your inspection
and analysis.
What have you found?
Did you see the pain I feel
at your scrutiny?
Did you watch the stars of my heart
explode and die in a supernova
of color?
Did you feel the love that seeps
from its very depths
and stains everything the color red?
I am vulnerable to your gaze
and now I let you see me-
Here I am, and I present
this version of myself
to you.