Time: 5:30 am
Place: Chicago's Lakefront Bike Path
Weather: Sun rising, between 65-75 degrees
Destination: Michigan Avenue workplace
Music: Elbow: "One Day Like This"
Mood: Complete Bliss
The past two mornings I have ridden my bike from Andersonville down to work in the above conditions. It's fantastic. It's almost like flying.
I am regretting several of the last few posts, and might take them down. After all, should one ruminate on one's own foolishness? Is it healthy to look back and compare then to now? And of course, if you act like a fool and have proof you were a fool, should you leave it on the internet for all to see?
I think the answer is no to all of the above.
In the meantime, I am drinking a cup of tea and wishing I could go hiking over Catbells, though by this time of year it would be crowded with people, which I don't want. I think I'd like to find a mountain to climb - not metaphorically, a literal mountain. I want the physical sensation of having to move my body up an obstacle.
I'm not making a lot of sense these days - Life is wonderful and laughing about 75% of the time, and the other 25% is on an endless loop of questioning, as if my brain is trying to win a complicated chess game and pushing all the moves ahead to see what the consequences are. Consequences - yes, I am working out the consequences bit by bit. I am not sure there is a way to win this chess game. But I'm not a very good chess player.
I may need to say goodbye to things I really like having in my life, and I've never been good at that either.
Something I am good at: hand-woven pot holders. Though I need one of those frames that come with the kit.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Stunned
Wow. I found a BUNCH of stuff I wrote in the past, and it is...shocking? revealing? hilarious? eye-opening?
First, apparently I have the ability to write great text with a great idea...that lasts about 2-3 pages. I don't seem to be able to follow through on an idea. There's this great bit about a caretaker who kills her charge because no matter who she works for, she gives that family/person what they need, and this person needed killing.
Sadly, I have no idea why s/he needs killing, I didn't write that part. I'm not even sure who got killed, aging grandma or tiny tot. But even if I'm explaining it badly, it sounds really intriguing for the two pages it lasts.
And laced through all of this are the hopes and loves of a previous me. And there is no doubt that I behave like an idiot for most of the time. I (currently) pride myself on being fairly even-tempered, not the drama queen that's expected in my profession. HA! Oh, I know how to luxuriate in the drama...it's as if I subsist only on milk. As in, milking it.
However, I am cheered by all of this, if only because one of the most aggravating, most disturbing pieces is an eight-page account of my slow acceptance that something vaguely romantic had ended. (Sorry to be so irritating - I couldn't call it a romance and I wasn't dating this person, so I'm stuck without a label.) I'm cheered because in the ensuing years I actually seem to have learned something, progressed, even (gasp!) grown up a little.
The story makes two interesting points I no longer believe: 1) If this gentleman is no longer interested in me, I must be uninteresting, and 2) without this person to amuse me, I am bored.
Hooray! Two demons completely vanquished! No one person has that much power over me anymore. (Except maybe my husband, but it's balanced by the power I have over him.)
But even better, I was transported back to that girl for a second last night, and when I got back to me, I realized I was sitting in rehearsal to be in a Shakespeare play. And I would get paid to be in that play. Both facts that seemed distantly impossible to certain previous me's. Look at me! I'm getting what I want! Not all the time, perhaps, but sometimes.
And then we all danced a square dance for the end of the play! Really! And I was happy.
First, apparently I have the ability to write great text with a great idea...that lasts about 2-3 pages. I don't seem to be able to follow through on an idea. There's this great bit about a caretaker who kills her charge because no matter who she works for, she gives that family/person what they need, and this person needed killing.
Sadly, I have no idea why s/he needs killing, I didn't write that part. I'm not even sure who got killed, aging grandma or tiny tot. But even if I'm explaining it badly, it sounds really intriguing for the two pages it lasts.
And laced through all of this are the hopes and loves of a previous me. And there is no doubt that I behave like an idiot for most of the time. I (currently) pride myself on being fairly even-tempered, not the drama queen that's expected in my profession. HA! Oh, I know how to luxuriate in the drama...it's as if I subsist only on milk. As in, milking it.
However, I am cheered by all of this, if only because one of the most aggravating, most disturbing pieces is an eight-page account of my slow acceptance that something vaguely romantic had ended. (Sorry to be so irritating - I couldn't call it a romance and I wasn't dating this person, so I'm stuck without a label.) I'm cheered because in the ensuing years I actually seem to have learned something, progressed, even (gasp!) grown up a little.
The story makes two interesting points I no longer believe: 1) If this gentleman is no longer interested in me, I must be uninteresting, and 2) without this person to amuse me, I am bored.
Hooray! Two demons completely vanquished! No one person has that much power over me anymore. (Except maybe my husband, but it's balanced by the power I have over him.)
But even better, I was transported back to that girl for a second last night, and when I got back to me, I realized I was sitting in rehearsal to be in a Shakespeare play. And I would get paid to be in that play. Both facts that seemed distantly impossible to certain previous me's. Look at me! I'm getting what I want! Not all the time, perhaps, but sometimes.
And then we all danced a square dance for the end of the play! Really! And I was happy.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Slapped by the past
I make no claims of goodness for the following poem - I'm just shocked by it, shocked that I wrote it in 2004 about someone who is in no way important to me now. I'm cleaning out a box I thought was just pictures and instead it has a bunch of emails and letters and fragments of stories and poems I wrote over the past 15 years. I'm sad in some ways how much doesn't change, glad at how much does.
I really thought this poem was about someone else, then I found a date on an earlier draft, March/April 2004 and realized who it must be about. Apparently my feelings about anyone who has ever dumped me are interchangable. Though I suppose that's true for all of us up to a point.
So:
Villanelle for the One Who Moved On
Elliptical and sly, he comes alight
and all that danger howling in his eyes
keeps counting up the fierce price of delight.
He snakes his way past your defences' height
and dances there a while, to your surprise.
Elliptical and sly, his eyes alight.
His words are cardinals, his thoughts a kite
to lift you double-winged in rash surmise,
but surely there's a price for wild delight.
The bastard went and turned your pastels bright
with all his tumbling words that seemed unwise,
elliptical and shy, you flamed alight.
How will you pay? Your courage is too slight
you cannot hock the flattery once it dies.
Can you afford the price of such delight?
You hate the final stanza turns out trite
as: woman mourns and pays, man finds new skies.
elliptical and sly, he blazed alight
and never paid a dime. What price delight!
I really thought this poem was about someone else, then I found a date on an earlier draft, March/April 2004 and realized who it must be about. Apparently my feelings about anyone who has ever dumped me are interchangable. Though I suppose that's true for all of us up to a point.
So:
Villanelle for the One Who Moved On
Elliptical and sly, he comes alight
and all that danger howling in his eyes
keeps counting up the fierce price of delight.
He snakes his way past your defences' height
and dances there a while, to your surprise.
Elliptical and sly, his eyes alight.
His words are cardinals, his thoughts a kite
to lift you double-winged in rash surmise,
but surely there's a price for wild delight.
The bastard went and turned your pastels bright
with all his tumbling words that seemed unwise,
elliptical and shy, you flamed alight.
How will you pay? Your courage is too slight
you cannot hock the flattery once it dies.
Can you afford the price of such delight?
You hate the final stanza turns out trite
as: woman mourns and pays, man finds new skies.
elliptical and sly, he blazed alight
and never paid a dime. What price delight!
Three in a Row
If you take a look at the last post, I had a nice audition last week. Saturday I had an another audition - it was fun, though I have no idea if I will get cast due to lots of scheduling conflicts. Then today I had a really really nice audition. I'm on a roll! I love it!
I'm trying to write down the excitment and thrill I feel now, because there's a high probability I won't book any kind of work from any of the three, and then I'll feel pointless all over again. But right now I feel pointful! Pointed! Pointy?
So I could bore all of us with the play by play of today, but the gist is this: they kept asking me to do more things. I sang, they gave me a scene to read. I read, they gave me a song from the show to sing. I sang again, they asked me to stay and read some more.
Plus, the accompanist was this truly awesome, Julliard-trained piano player I've worked with and think is wonderful (and he really is, he's insanely talented) and on one of his trips out of the audition room he turned to me and mouthed, "That was really GREAT!" And then later something like, "You sounded great!"
Which made me feel...gleeful. Pleased. Grateful. Lucky. Talented.
It made me feel like, whatever else happens, I'm doing something right. Not everything, perhaps, and not enough that I'm where I need to be, but something. Maybe even enough to keep at it a while longer.
And it's not just the praise - I mean, yes, of course, my vanity is sated, but there was also just the joy of getting to sing a pretty song in front of people, and have it sound good. It was the musical theatre equivalent of the general audition the other day. I do this for the sheer delight of doing it - I want so badly to do it well, and when a note rings in your voice a certain way and you know you're selling the song, you know it suits you and you land on a note with the ease of a gymnast, it feels so GREAT.
Then I got to go to rehearsal and learn a square dance! What a great day this has been!!!
I wrote it down because in a few days, when no jobs are forthcoming, I'll start to feel like I imagined it all. I want to pull out this description like a shiny locket and remember that when I get to do it, I LOVE IT. Even for a few minutes. Even in an audition.
And that's worth sticking around for.
I'm trying to write down the excitment and thrill I feel now, because there's a high probability I won't book any kind of work from any of the three, and then I'll feel pointless all over again. But right now I feel pointful! Pointed! Pointy?
So I could bore all of us with the play by play of today, but the gist is this: they kept asking me to do more things. I sang, they gave me a scene to read. I read, they gave me a song from the show to sing. I sang again, they asked me to stay and read some more.
Plus, the accompanist was this truly awesome, Julliard-trained piano player I've worked with and think is wonderful (and he really is, he's insanely talented) and on one of his trips out of the audition room he turned to me and mouthed, "That was really GREAT!" And then later something like, "You sounded great!"
Which made me feel...gleeful. Pleased. Grateful. Lucky. Talented.
It made me feel like, whatever else happens, I'm doing something right. Not everything, perhaps, and not enough that I'm where I need to be, but something. Maybe even enough to keep at it a while longer.
And it's not just the praise - I mean, yes, of course, my vanity is sated, but there was also just the joy of getting to sing a pretty song in front of people, and have it sound good. It was the musical theatre equivalent of the general audition the other day. I do this for the sheer delight of doing it - I want so badly to do it well, and when a note rings in your voice a certain way and you know you're selling the song, you know it suits you and you land on a note with the ease of a gymnast, it feels so GREAT.
Then I got to go to rehearsal and learn a square dance! What a great day this has been!!!
I wrote it down because in a few days, when no jobs are forthcoming, I'll start to feel like I imagined it all. I want to pull out this description like a shiny locket and remember that when I get to do it, I LOVE IT. Even for a few minutes. Even in an audition.
And that's worth sticking around for.
Friday, June 24, 2011
I'm going to describe yesterday afternoon briefly, because I'd like to capture it, and I know my delight will be all too brief.
I crashed a general audition - got there at 2:30, waited around until they did finally see me at 5:15 pm (which isn't that long - I have waited from 7 am to 4:45 pm to be seen).
The 2 1/2 hours were pretty torturous. Waiting around at a general audition, you see a smorgasbord of people who are feasibly better than you are and will get cast instead of you. Most of the girls are prettier than me, or if not, thinner, or if not, DEFINITELY younger. Someone always knows someone else, they have big lovey reunions with each other, then stand around talking about what show they are in at the moment. It's always some play you want to be in but didn't get cast in, or an audition you weren't called for, or some project you know you would never in a million years be able to do.
The mental capacity required to withstand this kind of water torture (because every person who arrives is a) another drop, and b) another slot full so you might never even get into the room) is attainable but elusive. Sometimes I can take it, sometimes I feel like total crap the whole time. No matter what, it brings out the "judgy" in me.
But then, right at the very end of the day, when everyone else was gone, they had me come in and audition with my 2 minute piece. AND the three people in the room, those gracious, lovely people, after 7 hours of watching people, had the grace to laugh, more than once. And for a moment, a pure, inhabited moment, I wasn't begging for a job. I was telling a story to people who were listening and enjoying it. A funny story. A story they could identify with. Sometimes it made them laugh with recognition.
And here's the thing. I feel whole. Not bored. Not anxious. Not inferior or sad or confused or wasting my life. Today, for 2 minutes, for an audience of 3 people, I was exactly who I want to be. Who I am supposed to be. As if the tumblers in my particular lock have finally synced up and something came loose.
Tomorrow it'll be gone again. But this is why I haven't stopped yet. Because sometimes it clicks.
I crashed a general audition - got there at 2:30, waited around until they did finally see me at 5:15 pm (which isn't that long - I have waited from 7 am to 4:45 pm to be seen).
The 2 1/2 hours were pretty torturous. Waiting around at a general audition, you see a smorgasbord of people who are feasibly better than you are and will get cast instead of you. Most of the girls are prettier than me, or if not, thinner, or if not, DEFINITELY younger. Someone always knows someone else, they have big lovey reunions with each other, then stand around talking about what show they are in at the moment. It's always some play you want to be in but didn't get cast in, or an audition you weren't called for, or some project you know you would never in a million years be able to do.
The mental capacity required to withstand this kind of water torture (because every person who arrives is a) another drop, and b) another slot full so you might never even get into the room) is attainable but elusive. Sometimes I can take it, sometimes I feel like total crap the whole time. No matter what, it brings out the "judgy" in me.
But then, right at the very end of the day, when everyone else was gone, they had me come in and audition with my 2 minute piece. AND the three people in the room, those gracious, lovely people, after 7 hours of watching people, had the grace to laugh, more than once. And for a moment, a pure, inhabited moment, I wasn't begging for a job. I was telling a story to people who were listening and enjoying it. A funny story. A story they could identify with. Sometimes it made them laugh with recognition.
And here's the thing. I feel whole. Not bored. Not anxious. Not inferior or sad or confused or wasting my life. Today, for 2 minutes, for an audience of 3 people, I was exactly who I want to be. Who I am supposed to be. As if the tumblers in my particular lock have finally synced up and something came loose.
Tomorrow it'll be gone again. But this is why I haven't stopped yet. Because sometimes it clicks.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Ok, it starts
Two years ago, I spent my summer rehearsing for two Shakespeare plays and dieting/exercising. The dieting was tough, because I like eating. But I did manage to get rid of some extra weight and I found I really liked being that size of person. I still wasn't skinny even then, but it was easier to buy clothes and I felt much healthier. Ironically, even then I would have had to lose something like another 20 pounds to think about being an actor in LA, but since that's not a goal of mine, I didn't worry about it.
By now, I have gone back to eating whatever is tasty and gained that weight back. However! I think I am going to try to regain that ground this summer, starting tomorrow. No more excuses, no more, oh-just-this-one-cookie...it's an effort to reintroduce myself to discipline, because I feel I have been shockingly undisciplined in my life recently.
Also, I just realized I probably have to wear a skimpy costume and play a fairy in about 5 weeks, and it would behove me not to look as if I have been stuffed with marshmallows.
By now, I have gone back to eating whatever is tasty and gained that weight back. However! I think I am going to try to regain that ground this summer, starting tomorrow. No more excuses, no more, oh-just-this-one-cookie...it's an effort to reintroduce myself to discipline, because I feel I have been shockingly undisciplined in my life recently.
Also, I just realized I probably have to wear a skimpy costume and play a fairy in about 5 weeks, and it would behove me not to look as if I have been stuffed with marshmallows.
Monday, June 06, 2011
One down
Okay, I was able to get a hold on myself and refocus. One audition has been successfully hurdled - I may or may not have been brilliant, it's a subjective medium and I couldn't see myself, but I was able to:
I'm trying to stop thinking about these auditions as thresholds of fear and instead be grateful for the tiny vote of confidence it is to be seen. The theatre I just did an audition for, less than an hour ago - well, I would LOVE to work for them. I love their work, I love what they do, and I would count myself super lucky to be involved there as an actor. And, that theatre had my information and chose, for whatever reason, to audition me for their general auditions. They contacted me with an audition time.
I haven't done a general audition at that theatre for four, maybe five years? So the fact that they saw me today, that's the victory, that's the success.
This weekend, while I was feeling so very frightened, I looked back over a lot of the entries here on the blog, back when I did an Equity show, back when things seemed to be coming together. I wanted so much to turn those experiences into more success, more work, and instead, for whatever reason, the economy or bad luck or still possibly my own lack of ability, it didn't. So I was saying to my husband, "Do you think I'll ever get to do an Equity show again?" His answer was, "If that's what's important to you...."
Within a millisecond, I realized I definitely hope to do an Equity show again someday, but that wasn't what was most important to me:
"I just want to be in a project that means something to me again someday."
His response, so true that most of my roiling fear settled immediately: "Well, of course that will happen."
That's right. And probably more than once. But I won't get cast in them if I stay in my room second-guessing myself or my talent. Bad actors get cast too - we all see them all the time, so my talent or lack thereof isn't even the point.
Time to roll up my sleeves and get back to work. One scary scary audition has been faced down and conquered...more to come.
- show up on time and prepared
- dress appropriately
- do my piece with confidence and with some actual choices in place
- not apologize
- make minor small talk without impeding the flow of the audition
I'm trying to stop thinking about these auditions as thresholds of fear and instead be grateful for the tiny vote of confidence it is to be seen. The theatre I just did an audition for, less than an hour ago - well, I would LOVE to work for them. I love their work, I love what they do, and I would count myself super lucky to be involved there as an actor. And, that theatre had my information and chose, for whatever reason, to audition me for their general auditions. They contacted me with an audition time.
I haven't done a general audition at that theatre for four, maybe five years? So the fact that they saw me today, that's the victory, that's the success.
This weekend, while I was feeling so very frightened, I looked back over a lot of the entries here on the blog, back when I did an Equity show, back when things seemed to be coming together. I wanted so much to turn those experiences into more success, more work, and instead, for whatever reason, the economy or bad luck or still possibly my own lack of ability, it didn't. So I was saying to my husband, "Do you think I'll ever get to do an Equity show again?" His answer was, "If that's what's important to you...."
Within a millisecond, I realized I definitely hope to do an Equity show again someday, but that wasn't what was most important to me:
"I just want to be in a project that means something to me again someday."
His response, so true that most of my roiling fear settled immediately: "Well, of course that will happen."
That's right. And probably more than once. But I won't get cast in them if I stay in my room second-guessing myself or my talent. Bad actors get cast too - we all see them all the time, so my talent or lack thereof isn't even the point.
Time to roll up my sleeves and get back to work. One scary scary audition has been faced down and conquered...more to come.
Friday, June 03, 2011
They were out of moxie at the store
So, I've been putting off dealing with the fact that I have some general auditions next week. I always claim to like auditions - and I do, I feel like often they are my only chance to act anymore, and on the rare occasion I can surprise even myself, I feel connected, I feel capable.
But to be honest, my recent track record with auditions is frighteningly bad. I haven't booked a job from an audition in over two years. And the last audition I did I thought, hey, it'll be great! I work with this company every year, they have to cast me! I went in, hoping to break my streak, and felt pretty good about what I did. Then I got a special phone call from the producer, saying, hey, we just want to check that you'll still do the season with us, after we tell you the tiny little roles we cast you in. So even when a company has to cast me from the audition, they will make sure to give me as little as possible to do, just so I don't ruin the plays for them.
General auditions are just that, general, and often phoned in by the companies that are seeing you. As in, they have to hold general auditions, but they have already cast their entire season from people they already know. But surprise! I have just this evening realized I am scared out of my mind. Possible crying jag coming up.
First, before I get into details, let me explain that I figured out I am terrified when I noticed I had made a batch of buttercream icing with almond flavoring from scratch. And ate it. Licked it right off the spoon. I think this is a pretty good indicator that I am stressed.
So, what's different?
Because an audition is an opportunity to show someone what you've got and I have nearly run out of belief that I have anything to show. I feel like I'm going to market with an empty truck, how am I going to sell air?
Just...I don't want to sound all woe-is-me, I mean this quite baldly: the fact that I have not been chosen so many times in a row seems to me an indicator that I have no ability in this field. There are lots of hints - a theatre where I did a bunch of shows has stopped calling me to audition, the theatre I work with every summer has me playing almost nothing, the cabaret review I've been involved in for three years didn't ask me to do year 4... When do I catch on to what everyone else already knows?
But I LOVE it. I love it so much. I love doing it so much I'll do bad plays with bad actors and love it. And the chance to be seen by theatres I would really love to work for, it's overwhelming, it's terrifying, it's a death sentence if I screw it up.
Ok, death sentence sounds dramatic, I know. But I'm out of moxie. I've got no belief left - I haven't surprised myself at an audition in so long. Maybe the reason I continue to fail is that I haven't got the talent you need to succeed. And if I get to the point that I truly believe that, that not an ounce of me thinks I can do it, I'm finished, kaput. If that happens, how on earth do I survive it? I won't do anything dramatic like kill myself, but in a way, that's worse, you know? I'd just be mostly dead inside for another, what, thirty, forty years?
Or, hey, yes, I could find something else I like to do, sure. Something I like, not love. But even then, even shunted into some minor path of least resistance, I'll think of myself as a failure.
This is why I'm so scared. I don't WANT to fail. I don't want to be the person I'm describing. If this were a film, I would feel so very scared, this would be the entry into the third act, the dark night of the soul, and next week I'd be brilliant in my auditions and everything would turn around! I want to triumph, I want to get to do the thing I love and I want to be good at it.
Right now that seems like a pipe dream, I'll admit. My life isn't a film.
But to be honest, my recent track record with auditions is frighteningly bad. I haven't booked a job from an audition in over two years. And the last audition I did I thought, hey, it'll be great! I work with this company every year, they have to cast me! I went in, hoping to break my streak, and felt pretty good about what I did. Then I got a special phone call from the producer, saying, hey, we just want to check that you'll still do the season with us, after we tell you the tiny little roles we cast you in. So even when a company has to cast me from the audition, they will make sure to give me as little as possible to do, just so I don't ruin the plays for them.
General auditions are just that, general, and often phoned in by the companies that are seeing you. As in, they have to hold general auditions, but they have already cast their entire season from people they already know. But surprise! I have just this evening realized I am scared out of my mind. Possible crying jag coming up.
First, before I get into details, let me explain that I figured out I am terrified when I noticed I had made a batch of buttercream icing with almond flavoring from scratch. And ate it. Licked it right off the spoon. I think this is a pretty good indicator that I am stressed.
So, what's different?
Because an audition is an opportunity to show someone what you've got and I have nearly run out of belief that I have anything to show. I feel like I'm going to market with an empty truck, how am I going to sell air?
Just...I don't want to sound all woe-is-me, I mean this quite baldly: the fact that I have not been chosen so many times in a row seems to me an indicator that I have no ability in this field. There are lots of hints - a theatre where I did a bunch of shows has stopped calling me to audition, the theatre I work with every summer has me playing almost nothing, the cabaret review I've been involved in for three years didn't ask me to do year 4... When do I catch on to what everyone else already knows?
But I LOVE it. I love it so much. I love doing it so much I'll do bad plays with bad actors and love it. And the chance to be seen by theatres I would really love to work for, it's overwhelming, it's terrifying, it's a death sentence if I screw it up.
Ok, death sentence sounds dramatic, I know. But I'm out of moxie. I've got no belief left - I haven't surprised myself at an audition in so long. Maybe the reason I continue to fail is that I haven't got the talent you need to succeed. And if I get to the point that I truly believe that, that not an ounce of me thinks I can do it, I'm finished, kaput. If that happens, how on earth do I survive it? I won't do anything dramatic like kill myself, but in a way, that's worse, you know? I'd just be mostly dead inside for another, what, thirty, forty years?
Or, hey, yes, I could find something else I like to do, sure. Something I like, not love. But even then, even shunted into some minor path of least resistance, I'll think of myself as a failure.
This is why I'm so scared. I don't WANT to fail. I don't want to be the person I'm describing. If this were a film, I would feel so very scared, this would be the entry into the third act, the dark night of the soul, and next week I'd be brilliant in my auditions and everything would turn around! I want to triumph, I want to get to do the thing I love and I want to be good at it.
Right now that seems like a pipe dream, I'll admit. My life isn't a film.
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