December 12 - Failure

Failure is not a good word, but it is a word I would like to not be afraid of anymore. I know I probably consider myself a failure in ways other people would not even think of and I know those are likely unhealthy thoughts. But I think that there is something to be learned from failure. There are all those super-inspirational quotes about success being about falling down seven times and standing up eight, or the Winston Churchill quote I have taped to my computer monitor at work that reads, "Success is going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm." That one kept circling around and around in my brain last night as I was failing at falling asleep, because in many ways, I feel like I'm in the middle of a failure spiral.

It was bound to happen. I had been doing pretty well for a really long time, there. And yes, I am talking mostly about my professional (semi-professional) acting career. I had a streak of nearly three years when I was constantly working on projects. The longest bit of down time I had when I was auditioning, trying to get the next show, was about a month. Well, it has been almost three weeks since my last show ended, and rehearsals for the next show in which I have been cast don't start until March and I'm starting to get antsy. I've been on quite a few auditions, and was auditioning even before the last show ended, but they seem to only be producing more and more "Thank you for sharing your work, but we can't find a role for you in this show," emails.

Side note: I do actually like and appreciate the fact that theatre companies send those emails now. Back in the day when more audition submissions were handled by mailing in a headshot and waiting for a phone call, there was just sort of an unwritten rule that if you didn't hear anything within a week, you probably weren't cast. With things becoming more electronically based now, it's easy to send the mass "thank you but no thank you email" so we all know for sure we're not cast. I like that. I like being able to stop worrying about whether or not I'll have to shift things around to make callbacks. I like knowing one way or another. So to all of the theatre companies out there sending definite rejection emails, this may sound odd, but I very sincerely thank you. It makes moving on to the next audition much easier.

I think this slump started, though, when I thought I had done really well at a certain callback, but then was not cast. I had put a lot of stock in being given the opportunity to audition for that company, so it was disappointing to not be able to actually work with them. I still think it is going to be an amazing show and I wish them the best with it. But I think that sort of rattled my confidence. Following shortly on the heels of that one, I got about five or six flat out rejections in a row. Not even called in for callbacks. Some of the auditions, I knew I wouldn't. Some of the auditions, I knew I did a great job, but I was really just wrong for the show. Some of the auditions, I thought I had done really well. And all of those assessments were probably true. Being an actor is tricky business, though, and sometimes you might absolutely nail the audition, but they need someone who looks just a little bit older/younger/blonder/brunetter instead, or there is only one female role in a cast of twelve and it was already promised to an ensemble member. And that's how it goes.

So I find myself in that mindset of, "Do I need different monologues? Do I need a different audition dress? What would happen if I spent the next month working out like crazy to get Madonna arms - would I be cast then?" And these thoughts start to eat away at me, the same way that other negative self-image issues like "Nobody will ever love me if I have a muffin top" or "My nose is too small for me to be taken seriously" do. And I try to comfort myself with thoughts like, "At least I'm on their radar now." The problem being, I know I'm good. I know I'm a talented actor. I have been told time and time again by fellow actors that I am the sort of actor who helps them up their game, which I take to be just about the highest compliment one performer can give another. And I know that given the opportunity and a little direction, I could rock any of the roles I've auditioned for in the past six months. I know I am talented and dedicated and a hard worker and I know I could give it my all and I know I would change my hair or learn a new skill or whatever was asked of me to make my performance amazing. But the director was looking for something else. Likely something I will never be, no matter how hard I try, and that is why they cast someone who was not me. It was completely out of my control. And yet, I want to be able to control it.

So it turns into a failure spiral. I start to doubt what I've got and who I am and what I can do. Which means I then go into the next audition playing it safe. Which is not what the director is looking for. So I am not cast. So I doubt what I've got and who I am and what I can do...

You see where this is going.

And such is the life of an actor. This is what we do. This, quite possibly more than any other reason, is why pursuing a career in the arts is difficult. When I am on stage, I am asking the director/producer/auditor/casting director/etc to judge every little teeny tiny thing about me from my appearance to my voice to the way I carry myself to whether or not I seem like a fun person to work with, so when they say no, it is an extraordinarily personal rejection. It is not only a failure to book the job, it is a failure to present oneself as capable. Granted, some of these rejections hurt worse than others, but they all still hurt in their own little ways. And the more of them you get without any sort of relief in between, the more they build up and make you question yourself. But we have to put on the brave face, smile, pull out the monologues, review our notes, and head into the next audition knowing we can nail it. Even when we know there is no possible way for us to nail it.

I would like to become more comfortable with my failures and these strings of rejections. I would like to know in my heart of hearts that just because I am not working on something right at this very moment, that doesn't mean I will never work again. Hell, I have a show on the books for next spring, so I know I'll work again. I just need to be comfortable with the down time between projects. Like some people spend their lives bouncing from relationship to relationship without taking the time for self-reflection in between, maybe I need to take this time off of bouncing from project to project to work on my skills as an auditioner. Just like those people who are afraid to be single, though, I'm afraid to not be working.

I need to work on that.

November 5 - Cool

On my way in to work this morning, I heard an ad on the radio where someone (I'm pretty sure it was Zooey Deschanel in a spot for New Girl, which I love) said, "We're cool." And it came out in the dorky, sort-of defensive way that the geeks I grew up with used to cling to in order to validate ourselves as useful members of society. You know the tone of voice. Someone decidedly uncool trying to convince himself (and others) that he is cool. And I thought to myself, "What's so great about being cool?"

I mean, seriously, think about it. This is the biggest, most on-going, far-reaching ad campaign in history (I say, having done absolutely no research on the topic). Everybody wants to be cool. Everybody wants other people to think they are cool. As much as we want food and shelter and to be loved, we want to be cool because we think being cool is our ticket to being loved.

But let's look at coolness for a minute, yes? The actual word "cool." It means not quite cold, but colder than warm. It describes a state of non-commitment. Cool can't even be bothered to slow down enough to be cold, nor is it as inviting as warm or as furious as hot. It's just...there. Cool just exists. And for some reason, we all want to be cool. We all want to just exist.

What?

Let's look at how the word is used, for example, in the context of a budding relationship. People feel the need to be cool around one another when they are getting to know each other so as to not scare the other person away. So they hide their feelings, they shrug things off that really annoy them, and they avoid saying the things they really want to say for fear they might venture into warm territory and therefore cease being cool. How many times have you told a friend to "just be cool" around the object of his or her affection? By which you are telling them to not show emotion, not be excited, not let this person who makes their heart skip a beat know that their heart is skipping just now. Yet we all yearn for the brilliant poetic moment wherein we learn we make someone's heart flutter just a little bit. So why do we have to be cool? Is there this big societal fear that if we tell one person they make our heart flutter, that it won't mean anything if we tell someone else the same thing later in life? Because I'll tell you right now, the heart flutters I feel for certain people now are just as lovely, if not lovelier, than the heart flutters I felt as a child.

I have, admittedly, spent a large portion of my life wanting to be cool, too. But I have to say, I'm tired of it. If I'm excited to see someone, I want to let them know I'm happy to see them. If I hear a great song on the radio, I want to have a dance party to it. If wearing a TARDIS watch that doesn't keep time very well makes me feel more like me, I'm want to wear a TARDIS watch that doesn't keep time very well. Fuck being cool; I want to be me. I want to be excitable and passionate and friendly and energetic and I want to use my fucking words to fucking tell people how I fucking feel about them, coolness be damned. There is so much amazing stuff going on all the time in the universe; why on earth would we want to not participate in it and not be affected by it?

Find one thing that you love and love it completely. Every day, with every fiber of your being. Fuck being cool.

I love you guys.

October 29 - Bravery

It's not so much a matter of being brave as it is a matter of being impatient. If there is something I want to do and I can't find anyone to do it with me, I'll go it alone. No biggie. I still get the experience, which is brilliant. 

She says, standing in a rock club she should have been to a million times before as a Chicago musician but sadly never has...