I feel sick

I feel sick. I feel like the second I get to next week (when I have very little work scheduled), I will find it impossible to get out of bed. I have to drug myself with books in order to get from hour to hour. Being awake and conscious right now feels unbearable.

Someone is dying. It's a long story. Not one I will tell - you're safe.

I am very close to sliding back into a dark dark place. I hope against hope to get some good news about getting cast in something awesome, but it's looking unlikely. Though a couple of months ago I thought I had been trapped in this dark place and I managed to wriggle back out, so maybe that will happen.

I need a yes instead of a no from something.

I may not get one. It may be a while before I can write another post. But hey, all four of you reading could use a break, I'm sure.

Someone told me once, bad days are good for the acting. Let's hope so. Let's hope so.

No Squirrels Up Here

I'm on the 86th floor of a building.  The view is incredible.  The sun is out, making the lake glow - I would say like the Bahamas but I've never been there.  The way I think the Bahamas looks?  Maybe.  This is so far up that I feel like I'm in a spaceship hovering above everything.

I'm filling in for someone in their office and hoping I'm not ruining anything.  I'm listening to Pandora and trying to come up with ways to trick it to play me something I like.  I'm sort of surprised that Pandora is not as apt at hitting the musical spot as I had hoped.  Weird...either I have exceptionally eclectic tastes, or Pandora is hamstrung by its silly requirements.  Look them up sometime - it's strange.  Hey, we can play you a bunch of stuff you'll probably like, as long as we don't play the song you say you actually like, or the artist you say you like more than a couple of times.  Strange.

Hilarious - I am in the gooey middle of a wash of sappy, sugary pop music, brought on by the satellite radio in a rental car, so the fact that I can even pretend that I have eclectic taste in music is delusional.  My poor sweetie is so tired of pop music he could throw up, and cracks jokes about the calories that I am burning with all my in-the-seat dancing.

And actually, I gave in and did some street dancing these past few days.  Sigh.  It is ludicrous that I think I am calm, rational and non-dramatic when I will literally dance in the street with my iPod on as if this is just how normal people behave.  Truth?  I'm a weirdo.  I was dancing at band rehearsal the other night!  And here's the thing - I am a bad dancer and yet I can't care.  I can't care about that when some peppy tune is plunking out string pizzacato notes to a funky beat. (pizzicato??  How can I not spell that?  Horrifying...)   

This is in direct contrast to my crying on the bus.  When I think about how little time separates those two events, I shudder and the word manic-depressive flashes through my mind.  You may not be surprised to find it runs in my crazy southern family, manic depression.  

Perhaps it would be better, on this fine, sunny day, to look out over the beautiful city of Chicago in the pearly sunlight and do some office chair dancing to, yes, I can admit it, Sara Bareilles' King of Anything.  Which I am obsessed with but cannot make Pandora play.  You have to approach it by trying to make it play something similiar.  It's like having to aim just slightly left of a target in order to hit it.  Hmmm...  

Oh, lastly, I think Pandora's super high-minded "bios" of everyone are irritating.  Those bios just tell you who the person you are listening to is "like", as if the purpose of the whole enterprise was to link every artist with another, as if music were a big color wheel and you could describe everyone by saying what two other artists combine to make them.  Not my favorite way of exploring people.  I just want to know about them, where they might be from, why they play music, etc.  

Clearly, Pandora has different goals than I do.  Fair, I suppose. 

You know what?

I had an audition last week (I was not particularly good) in which the character I was playing was described as starting sentences with "You know what?"  Sadly, I've noticed I've been doing it a lot since then.

I just looked up into the tree outside my picture window and a squirrel is staring at me.  Weird.

Still there.

It's like he's aiming a branch at me.

He hasn't moved.

I'm transfixed by a squirrel.  What will happen?  Find out in the next post...if there is one...

Delete

Sometimes I hold onto things longer than I should.  But in a moment, I'm going to go delete something out of my phone and I think I'm honestly done with it, absolutely, without a doubt.  It's a bittersweet feeling, to be sure.  And of course, I think I'm done with it now, but I could be wrong.

There.  Done.  Erased.  Just some gossipy text messages from when a friend went out drinking with someone I went out with once.  The messages were from almost six months ago.  The person I went out with (much much longer ago), well, it just never really felt finished.  But today at lunch I was talking to a friend about the difference between meeting someone and being enthralled with them and then having to actually build a day to day life with them.  (Technically, I was talking about it as it concerned my friend, but extrapolation can be made.)  And that situation I think of so fondly from my past...would have been a complete mess had it extended any farther, instead of just an unfinished fizzling out.  I really should have just had my one night stand and been done with it.  Not that I was capable of such a thing at the time, but that's what never got finished, not some great love affair.

The bittersweet part reveals I'm a romantic.  I like the idea of the unfinished, the yet-to-come fulfillment.  In putting that daydream down and getting on with life as it is and would have been, I lose the fun mental side-trip, the boondoggle.  But someday you have to stop kidding yourself.  Today I managed to stop kidding myself about one thing.  It's not much, but it's progress.

So long, you.  I'll just be over here in the corner with this pile of long-cherished illusions.  Hey, just because I junked one doesn't mean I'm free of them...

The weeping must stop

I thought this post would be about the really frustrating kids I am teaching this week.  But I just whined on facebook about that, so, no.

Instead I'd like to mark in print for myself that I couldn't stop weeping on the bus today, which is worrying.  Low-level weeping, not totally uncontrollable - tears but not shoulder shaking.  And yes, lots of things could be behind this - I mean I have reasons to weep, sure, who doesn't?  Death is a good reason, and letting something or someone go, and tiredness and frustration.  Disappointment, anger, being passed over - all good reasons.

But these are things I'd like to imagine I have the stamina to withstand.  Or maybe normally these things, which we all deal with at different times and at different measures, are balanced by the good things.  Don't get me wrong!  I have some good things!  If I didn't, I'd probably not be able to get out of bed.

Which is my point.  I seem to be lacking a fundamental ability to cope on an ordinary, regular level with much of my own bitterness and disappointment and sadness.  If I had any money at all, I would start investigating medical solutions.  Though, tricky - medicine could improve my mood (maybe), but can never make me a better actor, which, truth be told, is what I really want.

Which is my underlying query to myself these days - is happiness overrated?  Is discontent the driving force toward action, or improvement?  If I medically took the edge off of my sadness (presuming I could afford to do so - not a given, as I'm not sure where next month's rent is coming from because a check is late from my print job in APRIL), would I be stuck at this point forever, or will my dissatisfaction with my present state eventually galvanize me toward a better conclusion?

Which brings me to a different question:  do I want more than I have the talent to achieve? 

What's orange and sounds like a parrot?

A carrot.  I know, great, right? 

So, this week I'm teaching a "talent camp".  Who-hoo. It surprises me how much better life gets when I am making some money, however little it may be.

The kids are 5 to 7 years old.  While they are, of course, talented, their "talent show" may not be stellar.  But the jokes, whoo, boy!!

More soon.

New Mantra

I just found out an actress I think of as my nemesis has been cast in a new play I ADORED in the reading...a new play I had no opportunity to audition for.

Let it go.  Let it go.  Let it go let it go.  Let it go let it go let it go let it go.  Let it go.  Let it go let it go.

I'll be at this a while. 

Let it go.  Let it go.  Let it go.  Let it go.....

Ballet Flats

I got to this audition about 5 pm.  It's now 11:15 pm.  Gah.

So, it's hard not to feel like cattle at this point, and in addition, not to be truly repulsed by actors in general, and how needy and irritating and self-centered we all are.  (There's no way I'm immune.)

And, not to be rude, but this particular audition is full of very young people, mostly just starting out, and they have that "everything is possible" sheen on them, and dammit, everything probably is possible for them.  But many of them currently lack a certain focus, clarity or self-awareness.  They're throwing themselves at the text and music without regard to detail or subtlety.

Well, and also there are about 40 people here, reading in endless combinations.  It's a LOT of people.

There's no getting away from the fact that this is a certain tier of work, and it's not the tier I want to be on.  I'm not ashamed of it, I just want more.  So if they cast me, and certain indicators make it seem likely they will, I would happily do the show as long as none of the other projects I'm interested in come to pass.  As in, it's better to do something than nothing, but there are things I would rather do instead of this.

They are all so young and eager!!!  Oh my god! If I hear one more story about the hilarious thing that happened to someone while they were playing some tiny part in a huge musical...

Also, there's a level of effort right now that I feel certain I wouldn't see at an equity audition - lots of performing to impress those of us in the lobby, instead of saving it for the audition room.

I'm tired of these little girls in their sundresses and ballet flats.  Does that make me a bitter middle-aged woman who spews venom at those who will succeed where she has failed?

I think so.  Damn.  Ok, Elsbeth....let it go.  Let it go.  Let it go. Let it go.

Endings

We leave Michigan tomorrow.  It's been a weird year for this gig for me (this was my fourth year with this Shakespeare company), so leaving has its positives, but it's bittersweet nonetheless.  I feel...ah, who cares what I feel, I'm just ricocheting between extremes these days, right?


It has been exceptionally easy to waste time here, and in fact I should head off to the beach momentarily to have one more shot at loafing.  There are all sorts of things I've not been getting around to - phone calls and writing and general work that should be done. (I owe some of you phone calls...sorry, it is true that I don't get good phone reception where I'm staying right now.)  It's hard to feel like any of the things I'm delaying are important.  And technically, yes, I guess none of it is important.  Or all of it is.

I don't seem to have anything to say, so I'll just stop abruptly.  Happy summer, all.

So proud

The interns I directed performed their scenes tonight and they were so awesome!!!  Ok, maybe they wouldn't be ready to star in a Royal Shakespeare Company production or a Hollywood picture, but they were clear, and funny, and knew exactly what they were saying in real words and had a blast.  I was especially pleased about how clear they were - they were making choices!  Thinking things through!!  It was great.

I'm so very proud of their work, and thrilled that I got a chance to work on scenes with them.  It's been work, more just arranging everyone's schedule to allow for rehearsal, but the good kind of work, the kind I like doing.

I still prefer acting myself, and I discovered more about what I wanted to direct them to do (or not do) when I walked the script with them, but it was a very gentle, easy introduction to directing.  Or really, coaching, I guess.

Yay!  No more Macbeth.  I may miss Midsummer, but I don't think I'll miss Macbeth.  Fake blood is really sticky.  Ugh.

Thunder, lightning, and in rain

It rained last night on Macbeth, which was sort of awesome, and ended up getting me home at a reasonable hour.  I was in my pajamas reading by 11:30 pm, and in bed one serving of cherry pie later.  Ah.

I know shortly I have to go back to the real world and to real work, and also to really being broke, but for the next three days, it's all books and food and music.  One of my friends has promised to teach me some new songs and I know tonight we'll all get to wail on a few good country numbers - pre-show of Midsummer Night's Dream, there are 3 guitars, a banjo, a harmonica, and occasionally a vibraphone that mix in different combinations to play country versions of Dead Flowers, California Stars (that one is totally awesome), Jolene, Took a Lot of Pills and Died, I'll Fly Away, This Land is Your Land, and a few others I can't remember.  I love it.  We tried to work up Patty Griffin's Long Ride Home, but it's too complicated to master quickly, and no one knows it well enough to put it in performance.

But it's really nice to sing like a banshee, and add the harmonies in for some of those tunes.  I can be pretty happy, knowing that's coming.

Now, to nap.  Ahhh. 

Some silence

I had the rental house to myself this morning, and it was lovely.  Well, really afternoon, since I slept until about 11:30, necessary after getting to bed at 3-4 am. (Completely worth it, as that involved getting to sing along with 4 guitars at once last night - wow.)

At the house, I cleaned, I folded laundry, I rearranged the refrigerator, I made some lunch, I took everything out of my bag, cleaned the bag, and put everything back in.  Mostly in an intense silence - this house is in the woods and far enough away from other houses to be isolated.  I liked it, although it got even better when I finally figured out I could set up my computer to play some background music and sing along. 

It feels good to be alone right now.  And I am happy that being alone makes me feel stronger instead of scared and weak.  I feel returned to myself, I feel like there's a center there somewhere that I might still like if I can get back to it.  I'm happy I'm not scared by silence.  It means I have a reservoir of peace somewhere.

And the house is really beautiful.  It's a pleasure to clean it - though I did get burned because the "cleaner" left in the house is actually watered down bleach, which has now quasi-ruined one of my favorite shirts.  Oh, well.  I seem to destroy clothes whether I want to or not, so maybe I should just accept I won't ever be able to wear anything "favorite" for long.

Ok, off to work with interns on their scenes.