Day Off, Part 2

This is sort of a sad day off, because it's the last day off until every day is a day off.  The awesome project has one more week and then it is over, and there will be much weeping and gnashing of teeth, because I think we've all had a lovely time almost universally.

I've spent the last few days trying to analyze why I was behaving so childishly last week. I mean, here I am in the middle of what is a dream project.  What could possibly be wrong?

Neither of my two hypotheses are flattering.

One.  I am finally working on the level I really want to be on, and I am deeply terrified I don't belong here, that I don't have the chops to play triple-A, much less major leagues.  Everyone around me seems to have extensive credits at theatres that have never called me back for anything, much less hired me.  I heard an interview with Matt Stone and Trey Parker the other day in which they talked about when South Park was first successful, they started trying to do everything they ever wanted right away, because they were sure someone would figure out they were frauds and the success would evaporate.  It's an idea I've heard plenty of people express: when will they find me out, and figure out I can't do this.  That's how I feel.  I finally get a chance - what if all that chance reveals is that I am not good enough to get more chances?

Two.  Oh, two is so sad and hard to admit.  I'm playing a middle aged woman in the awesome project.  And the truth is, I actually am a middle-aged woman, more or less. (Some days I can pass for late twenties, but I'm ten years beyond that in reality.)  I have a seriously hard time accepting that I will never, ever be cast to play the pretty one.  Underneath the deep disappointment at not being the pretty one is an eviscerating hatred of myself that I even want to be the pretty one.  Why don't I value being smart or wise or kind or friendly over just being attractive?  I value that in other people, ironically - I prefer the person who is interesting or clever or funny or talented or loving to the person who just looks pretty.   But some part of me believes only the pretty people win, and I am never going to be one of the pretty people.

It's so disappointing.  It's like being asked what you want for a final meal and realizing you want mashed potatoes, or oreos, or something bland that you would never in a million years have wanted for someone else.  Something boring.  Honestly, being pretty seems boring.  But it's what wins!  It's what drives this business I'm in.  It's what sells.

Now that I've thoroughly depressed myself, I'm going to stop thinking about it for a while and go enjoy the awesome project.  I'm not sure what to learn from this - that I've got a lot of growing up to do?  Ugh, how disheartening.