So, you're cleaning, and you dig up an old box of CDs or tapes (or sure, records, if you were into vinyl), and there are all these titles you remember but you haven't seen in ten, twelve years, easy. "Man, I loved this band!" you think, and you pull out a handful of gems. It feels like running into friends by accident, you're about to sit down and have a drink with someone you cared about deeply who just hasn't been in your life for a time. The feelings are all there, just buried under all the careless accumulation of being alive today and now.
Then you press play, slide in the disc, rest the needle in the groove. But it isn't a casual catch-up drink with old friends. Your body becomes transparent because you cease to be in the now, your whole self is shoved unceremoniously into the past, frozen there while the songs play. Maybe you are suddenly 25, and you've been swallowing all your disappointments, and you might not be entirely happy with who you are becoming. You've been sending out distress signals that are too subtle for most people to understand. You don't know how to make anything change, you don't know you are the one in control.
In the midst of that someone begins to entertain you - and it feels like it's for you, like a magician who is right there at your table, maybe other people can see the act but you are the audience for this fantastic sleight-of-hand. This entertainment is a distraction and a summons and a fiction and a delight. You are enthralled.
You are also taken in. Because it is not for you - even the tricks and asides that only you catch aren't for you, those bits are really just the rehearsal of material for others. You are not the audience but an audience. It takes you a long time to accept that this magic isn't directed at you, isn't in response to you. It takes you a long time to accept that nothing about you called any of this magic forth, that you were just the one sitting at the table when it started. You wanted so much to be someone who inspired magic.
And when you finally realize what you are not in this situation, your disappointment wells up and breaks open over everything, it spills down into a few songs that you have to stop listening to, some CDs that you pack away in a box, and try to forget.
"The worst thing: to give yourself away in exchange for not enough love." - Joyce Carol Oates
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Procrastination
Yes, I need to put a budget together and plan my upcoming classes and register my car in IL and exercise and write a letter and make dinner and re-pot the plants in the window and sort through all the stuff I brought home and fold all the laundry and make the bed and...
In short, I have work to do. But I don't wanna.
Last week my Dad was in town and we went to a few museums. We got split up pretty quickly due to our different speeds, and so I spent the morning wandering around learning things. Or, if not actually learning, re-experiencing. A lot of modern art leaves me shrugging, but sometimes a piece really grabs me. I built my own airplane on a computer at one point, and tried again to absorb how airplane wings actually make a plane fly. (It's seems counter-intuitive, no?) I learned that certain cells in my body are constantly replacing themselves while others stay put for a lifetime. Turns out my gut has replaced itself about 33 times, but the brain I came in with will be with me when I leave. (Gulp.) My resting heartbeat is somewhere between 55-60 (pretty good). I was fascinated by the wave simulator detailing tsunamis.
In contrast, this week there's little to learn. Harumph. I guess the onus is on me to go looking for something new.
I suppose the logical thing to do is stop procrastinating and get some of this work done.
All right, laundry. You and me are going to have a showdown...
In short, I have work to do. But I don't wanna.
Last week my Dad was in town and we went to a few museums. We got split up pretty quickly due to our different speeds, and so I spent the morning wandering around learning things. Or, if not actually learning, re-experiencing. A lot of modern art leaves me shrugging, but sometimes a piece really grabs me. I built my own airplane on a computer at one point, and tried again to absorb how airplane wings actually make a plane fly. (It's seems counter-intuitive, no?) I learned that certain cells in my body are constantly replacing themselves while others stay put for a lifetime. Turns out my gut has replaced itself about 33 times, but the brain I came in with will be with me when I leave. (Gulp.) My resting heartbeat is somewhere between 55-60 (pretty good). I was fascinated by the wave simulator detailing tsunamis.
In contrast, this week there's little to learn. Harumph. I guess the onus is on me to go looking for something new.
I suppose the logical thing to do is stop procrastinating and get some of this work done.
All right, laundry. You and me are going to have a showdown...
Monday, September 26, 2011
Zippo
I have Momitis - I can't think of anything to say that anyone would be vaguely interested in reading. (So named for my mother's true statement, "No one wants to listen to what you have to say, they'd rather be talking about themselves." Which is fair enough.)
I'll just be sitting here looking out the window, humming a little tune.
I'll just be sitting here looking out the window, humming a little tune.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Getting back to the groove
Whew. Nothing quite like leaving your parents home and getting back to your own to make a thirty-something girl feel like a grown-up again. I managed to take a large portion of stuff out of the closet, and make a really good stab at tossing some things I no longer need while hanging on to things that are still important. Letters from campers 18 years ago, campers I cannot visualize, that end LYLAS? Gone. Letters from one of my best friends at age 19 who is still one of my best friends? Kept.
Re-entry to my actual life is still tricky, as this is the beginning of school and I am way behind in terms of planning anything. Heh.
I did smuggle three bags of trash and four boxes of old clothes/flotsam/detrius out of the house, never to return. It isn't much, but it feels good to toss some things physically, as it allows one to toss some things mentally. At least I hope it does.
Brownlee, I know the danger of nostalgia, I do, but sometimes you don't see the journey until you look back. Also, as stupid, vain, whiny, irritating, and boorish as I was to everyone around me, it's nice to see with what generousity I was treated by my friends. Thanks, all. Especially the four people I know read this on occasion. I've saved letters from all of you.
Smootches.
Re-entry to my actual life is still tricky, as this is the beginning of school and I am way behind in terms of planning anything. Heh.
I did smuggle three bags of trash and four boxes of old clothes/flotsam/detrius out of the house, never to return. It isn't much, but it feels good to toss some things physically, as it allows one to toss some things mentally. At least I hope it does.
Brownlee, I know the danger of nostalgia, I do, but sometimes you don't see the journey until you look back. Also, as stupid, vain, whiny, irritating, and boorish as I was to everyone around me, it's nice to see with what generousity I was treated by my friends. Thanks, all. Especially the four people I know read this on occasion. I've saved letters from all of you.
Smootches.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Life Cleaning
I am overwhelmed.
I'm home with my parents, one of whom has been diagnosed with a chronic disease, and the other of whom has not been diagnosed but has a far more chronic disease. The house is full. I can't even begin to describe it without using words that would get me in trouble should anyone in the family ever read this. I will be driving back to Chicago from here, and here is a partial list of things it has been suggested I could take back:
So the house is what it is, there's nothing I can ever do to change that. But I came home with the idea that I would clean out my closet. I haven't even touched the closet yet, and I've been weepy and sad and generally sort of fretful, because I'm reading through bad writing of mine from the past 15-20 years. I'm trying to toss some of it, too, but no matter how bad it is, it's a marker, and some of it I can't part with because it is terrible but it describes what was going on at the time.
Did I mention I've been stung by a wasp as well, and that my arm is in a constant low-level pain?
And that reading things I wrote + emails is making me realized what a first class dope I am?
Ok, back to the closet. Pete, I think your stuff is coming up soon - I think for a change I will actually enjoy going through a basket/box/envelope.
I'm home with my parents, one of whom has been diagnosed with a chronic disease, and the other of whom has not been diagnosed but has a far more chronic disease. The house is full. I can't even begin to describe it without using words that would get me in trouble should anyone in the family ever read this. I will be driving back to Chicago from here, and here is a partial list of things it has been suggested I could take back:
- 4 wooden chairs
- two armchairs
- two round, glass-topped side tables
- a set of china
- 6 separate lamps, complete with shades
- clothing I last wore at age 14
- a chest of drawers
- all my books
So the house is what it is, there's nothing I can ever do to change that. But I came home with the idea that I would clean out my closet. I haven't even touched the closet yet, and I've been weepy and sad and generally sort of fretful, because I'm reading through bad writing of mine from the past 15-20 years. I'm trying to toss some of it, too, but no matter how bad it is, it's a marker, and some of it I can't part with because it is terrible but it describes what was going on at the time.
Did I mention I've been stung by a wasp as well, and that my arm is in a constant low-level pain?
And that reading things I wrote + emails is making me realized what a first class dope I am?
Ok, back to the closet. Pete, I think your stuff is coming up soon - I think for a change I will actually enjoy going through a basket/box/envelope.
Thursday, September 08, 2011
Something AWESOME
Wow. I am. Wow.
Ok. This may be the minute everything changes, or it may not be. But I just got cast in a show, a great show, a show I can be really excited about. A show with a really really well-respected theatre. It'll probably be a tiny tiny role, I'm just in the ensemble, but I don't care. I feel so excited that I'm about to work with these people, these people I respect and think are awesome beyond belief.
I almost can't describe how thrilling it feels. I have a toe-hold in the kind of theatre I can truly adore. The kind of atmosphere I can respect. I get to work with people I think are AMAZING. I get to do a 3 month run of this show. It's a play I read and got super excited about because it is creative and fascinating and bizarre and entrancing. And I GET TO BE IN IT.
I hate to have it be all middle-schooly, but THEY PICKED ME!!! I'M A PRETTY GIRL, MAMA!
The worst part, now I have to wait three months for rehearsals to start. But I don't care. It's going to be awesome.
Thank you, universe. My something good. Thank you.
Ok. This may be the minute everything changes, or it may not be. But I just got cast in a show, a great show, a show I can be really excited about. A show with a really really well-respected theatre. It'll probably be a tiny tiny role, I'm just in the ensemble, but I don't care. I feel so excited that I'm about to work with these people, these people I respect and think are awesome beyond belief.
I almost can't describe how thrilling it feels. I have a toe-hold in the kind of theatre I can truly adore. The kind of atmosphere I can respect. I get to work with people I think are AMAZING. I get to do a 3 month run of this show. It's a play I read and got super excited about because it is creative and fascinating and bizarre and entrancing. And I GET TO BE IN IT.
I hate to have it be all middle-schooly, but THEY PICKED ME!!! I'M A PRETTY GIRL, MAMA!
The worst part, now I have to wait three months for rehearsals to start. But I don't care. It's going to be awesome.
Thank you, universe. My something good. Thank you.
Wednesday, September 07, 2011
Four Hours Ago...
Ok, the good news is I pulled out of the worst of the bleakness, the bad news is I might be heading back in. I had an audition today, and it was for something I'd really like to do - I'd REALLY like to do. And I tried to be charming and adjustable and a collaborator, and it was good, really, it was ok. But at the end, I just felt sort of dismissed, and I thought, nope, someone will be better at that than I just was. Which is ok, really, it's so much higher a place than not going through this! But...
Last year about this time I had a very similar experience. A project came up that I really had a chance for - it was an understudy gig, but it would have been with a theatre I love and understudying people who are amazingly talented as well as well-placed in the scene. And I went and did a good job! I felt really happy about what I showed them and about my chances, even if I did not feel like I was a shoe-in. And I didn't get it.
So I know I don't know the result of today, but it feels the same, and I think, great! I keep showing up at these theatres for whom I long to work, and I am getting enough feedback back to realize I really have a shot at these roles (else why would they call me for callbacks and such?), and yet I continue not to book them. How long, oh lord, how long? A year has gone by and I'm in the same place. How many more years go by before something syncs up and I'm actually in the right place at the right time and get to do the thing I love???
And I feel disappointed in what I showed them today. I don't think it was enough. But I can't tell. I hate feeling I've disappointed myself - it was almost easier last year, when I felt good about what I showed them but didn't get it. I wonder if someday I'll actually be at a level where I am the reader on an audition like this, and look back and think, whew! I finally got to do what I love! How freaking lucky will I feel. And hey, if by some magic I have booked this show, even though it doesn't feel like that right now, how amazingly, stunningly, thrillingly lucky will I feel. Even though it would just be a small part in an ensemble. Ah, well. It may not happen. And if it doesn't, I get to deal with that however I can. I guess, in a way, just the fact I had a shot at it is progress? I have to tell myself that.
Last year about this time I had a very similar experience. A project came up that I really had a chance for - it was an understudy gig, but it would have been with a theatre I love and understudying people who are amazingly talented as well as well-placed in the scene. And I went and did a good job! I felt really happy about what I showed them and about my chances, even if I did not feel like I was a shoe-in. And I didn't get it.
So I know I don't know the result of today, but it feels the same, and I think, great! I keep showing up at these theatres for whom I long to work, and I am getting enough feedback back to realize I really have a shot at these roles (else why would they call me for callbacks and such?), and yet I continue not to book them. How long, oh lord, how long? A year has gone by and I'm in the same place. How many more years go by before something syncs up and I'm actually in the right place at the right time and get to do the thing I love???
And I feel disappointed in what I showed them today. I don't think it was enough. But I can't tell. I hate feeling I've disappointed myself - it was almost easier last year, when I felt good about what I showed them but didn't get it. I wonder if someday I'll actually be at a level where I am the reader on an audition like this, and look back and think, whew! I finally got to do what I love! How freaking lucky will I feel. And hey, if by some magic I have booked this show, even though it doesn't feel like that right now, how amazingly, stunningly, thrillingly lucky will I feel. Even though it would just be a small part in an ensemble. Ah, well. It may not happen. And if it doesn't, I get to deal with that however I can. I guess, in a way, just the fact I had a shot at it is progress? I have to tell myself that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)