Owen is drinking water. This brings me so much joy, I can't even tell you.
Today was quite possibly the most difficult day I've ever had. Saying goodbye to my Mom... I know millions of people have moved away from home, and thousands of them have left just for the sake of leaving, not because of a bad situation at home or anything like that. And I can't help but wonder if it is/was/has been as hard for them as it was for me. Yes, I was unhappy in my job, but I have such a close relationship with my mom, I have an amazing group of friends, I was living in a gorgeous apartment with lots of space in a very safe neighborhood, and Chicago is one of the most wonderful cities on the planet. Chicago has WXRT for crying out loud. There is no other radio station in the country like WXRT - where am I going to find my new music now? (The internet. I know.) I'm giving up a lot by moving to New York and as much potential lies ahead of me, it hurt to leave. Physically hurt. I left something great in the hopes I'll find something better. The outpouring of love and support and encouragement I have received from so many people is a little overwhelming - I think some of them think I am going to do better in New York than I do.
I found myself thinking of two major analogies when I left. I keep reading that Adrien Brody gave up everything when he was filming The Pianist - his apartment, his car, his girlfriend, his cell phone - so he would know what it felt like to lose everything. I still have a lot of stuff, but I did just give up an amazing apartment, my home, my job, my security, the ability to ask my friends out for a drink on a moment's notice, my cat's piece of mind, access to great hugs. I may not know what it feels like to lose everything, but I feel like I know what it feels like to lose a lot now. It is not fun.
And the other one I was thinking of a lot today was David Tennant's regeneration into Matt Smith. He got to say goodbye to his companions, and then went back to the TARDIS alone and said, "I don't want to go," before turning into someone different. The regeneration had to happen - there was no stopping it - and while Tennant loved his time on the show, he needed to move on and work on other projects. I spent this week saying goodbye to all of my companions, and while I know I need to give New York a shot, the first thing I thought of when I got up this morning was, "I don't want to go." I'm about to regenerate into something new - Kitty the New Yorker. Or at least, Kitty the Transplant from Chicago. And I can only hope that my regeneration is more of a Smith into Capaldi thing, or an Eccleston into Tennant thing, than a Tennant into Smith thing. I don't think I could handle three years of crap before something good starts to happen.
But then it was also killing me to have Owen in the car with me, being totally silent, not wanting treats when I offered them. As stressful as this is for me, it is a decision I have been thinking about for years, and I've been planning for it for months. To Owen...today he was put in his carrier and put into the car, where he never goes except when he is being taken to the vet. No warning, no say-so. He just has to come along for the ride. I was worried about how he would take it and it looked to be just about as awful as I had feared. But I think even more awful would have been leaving him behind. At least this way, he still has his person.
But me, being the dorky cat mom that I am, noticed that my guitar playing seems to calm him down. So I brought my guitar into the hotel room where we have stopped in Pittsburgh for the night and I played four or five songs for him. And then I moved his food bowl closer to him and he ate a few bites. And then I brought his water dish closer to him (he has yet to set foot out of his carrier), and he has been drinking water. Maybe too much, but I'm not going to quibble. I would rather have him eating and hydrating than not. His eyes look brighter, and he is facing the rest of the room now, instead of burying his nose in the far corner of the carrier. He is more animated and alert, reacting to the sounds of people in the hallway with curiosity and fear instead of just terror. He'll be fine. And if he can be fine with this, I will be fine with this, too.
Thank you, everyone, for the kind words and the beautiful send-offs. Thank you for your generosity and enthusiasm. Thank you for encouraging me to follow my dreams, and for not calling me crazy for doing so. I will do my best to not let you down.
Chicago, I love you and miss you. No matter where I live, I will be a Chicagoan. Always. And because I know you have my back, I can go off and do this thing I've wanted to try for a really long time. That is pretty amazing in and of itself, and for that, I will be forever grateful.
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Sunday, August 31, 2014
Friday, August 29, 2014
August 29 - Last
My last day of packing before the movers show up. It all needs to get done today, and hopefully in time for me to go out and say a final farewell to whichever of my friends decide to show up. It is because of these things that I woke up at about 6am in a panic. I'm tired of panic.
On the up side, I got a little bit of sleep last night. Not a lot, but there were a couple of stretches between bouts of consciousness where I wasn't sure how much time had passed, so that's a good thing. I kind of miss sleeping.
So yeah, today is not off to a fantastic start. But it will all get done. My mom is coming over to help later, and I can get more boxes if I need them, and it will all get done. That's really the only choice at this point.
Wish me luck!
Friday, August 15, 2014
August 15 - Hamlet
I'm thinking about Hamlet a lot today. Not exactly sure why, but she's in my brain.
Disclaimer: I know a lot of people are used to thinking about Hamlet in the masculine (i.e. his uncle killed his dad and married his mom), but since I played her, I tend to think of her in the feminine (i.e. her uncle killed her dad and married her mom). So please pardon me when I refer to Hamlet as a she.
Today, I am specifically thinking about the infamous "To be or not to be" speech, probably because there has been so much talk of suicide and depression this week and in the past, when I have been depressed, I have read this speech out loud and it is perfect. It captures my depression and my weakness and my powerlessness perfectly. If you don't know the speech, let's take a look at it (borrowed from here):
To be, or not to be, that is the Question:
Whether 'tis Nobler in the minde to suffer
The Slings and Arrowes of outragious Fortune,
Or to take Armes against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them: to dye, to sleepe
No more; and by a sleepe, to say we end
The Heart-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockes
That Flesh is heyre too? 'Tis a consummation
Deuoutly to be wish'd. To dye to sleepe,
To sleepe, perchance to Dreame; I, there's the rub,
For in that sleepe of death, what dreames may come,
When we haue shuffel'd off this mortall coile,
Must giue vs pawse. There's the respect
That makes Calamity of so long life:
For who would beare the Whips and Scornes of time,
The Oppressors wrong, the poore mans Contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd Loue, the Lawes delay,
The insolence of Office, and the Spurnes
That patient merit of the vnworthy takes,
When he himselfe might his Quietus make
With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardles beare
To grunt and sweat vnder a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The vndiscouered Countrey, from whose Borne
No Traueller returnes, Puzels the will,
And makes vs rather beare those illes we haue,
Then flye to others that we know not of.
Thus Conscience does make Cowards of vs all,
And thus the Natiue hew of Resolution
Is sicklied o're, with the pale cast of Thought,
And enterprizes of great pith and moment,
With this regard their Currants turne away,
And loose the name of Action. Soft you now,
The faire Ophelia? Nimph, in thy Orizons
Be all my sinnes remembred.
Some of that looks a little odd, yes? This is the First Folio text, the First Folio being sort of the first official publication of Shakespeare's works, after someone bothered to sit and write them all down. There are other Folios, too, like different editions, that might have different spellings or different punctuation, or that may have this soliloquy happen in a different place in the play. But most Shakespeare scholars tend to turn to the First Folio to try to get as close to Shakespeare's original meanings as possible. If you're not used to reading First Folio text, here are a few hints to help navigate:
I don't think that in the performance of the line "to be or not to be," the actor has to choose only one of these options. I think that all of these thoughts exist in Hamlet at the time, so there should be elements of all of these interpretations behind this speech. It is a momentous speech designed to talk through a momentous decision, that is obviously causing her distress since she starts with four irregular verse lines in a row.
Disclaimer: I know a lot of people are used to thinking about Hamlet in the masculine (i.e. his uncle killed his dad and married his mom), but since I played her, I tend to think of her in the feminine (i.e. her uncle killed her dad and married her mom). So please pardon me when I refer to Hamlet as a she.
Today, I am specifically thinking about the infamous "To be or not to be" speech, probably because there has been so much talk of suicide and depression this week and in the past, when I have been depressed, I have read this speech out loud and it is perfect. It captures my depression and my weakness and my powerlessness perfectly. If you don't know the speech, let's take a look at it (borrowed from here):
To be, or not to be, that is the Question:
Whether 'tis Nobler in the minde to suffer
The Slings and Arrowes of outragious Fortune,
Or to take Armes against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them: to dye, to sleepe
No more; and by a sleepe, to say we end
The Heart-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockes
That Flesh is heyre too? 'Tis a consummation
Deuoutly to be wish'd. To dye to sleepe,
To sleepe, perchance to Dreame; I, there's the rub,
For in that sleepe of death, what dreames may come,
When we haue shuffel'd off this mortall coile,
Must giue vs pawse. There's the respect
That makes Calamity of so long life:
For who would beare the Whips and Scornes of time,
The Oppressors wrong, the poore mans Contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd Loue, the Lawes delay,
The insolence of Office, and the Spurnes
That patient merit of the vnworthy takes,
When he himselfe might his Quietus make
With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardles beare
To grunt and sweat vnder a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The vndiscouered Countrey, from whose Borne
No Traueller returnes, Puzels the will,
And makes vs rather beare those illes we haue,
Then flye to others that we know not of.
Thus Conscience does make Cowards of vs all,
And thus the Natiue hew of Resolution
Is sicklied o're, with the pale cast of Thought,
And enterprizes of great pith and moment,
With this regard their Currants turne away,
And loose the name of Action. Soft you now,
The faire Ophelia? Nimph, in thy Orizons
Be all my sinnes remembred.
Some of that looks a little odd, yes? This is the First Folio text, the First Folio being sort of the first official publication of Shakespeare's works, after someone bothered to sit and write them all down. There are other Folios, too, like different editions, that might have different spellings or different punctuation, or that may have this soliloquy happen in a different place in the play. But most Shakespeare scholars tend to turn to the First Folio to try to get as close to Shakespeare's original meanings as possible. If you're not used to reading First Folio text, here are a few hints to help navigate:
- The letter U often looks like the letter V, so "vndiscovered" is actually "undiscovered."
- Similarly, the letter F often looks like the letter S, and J and I can look similar, because they wrote in very pretty script back then.
- This soliloquy is written in iambic pentameter (as is most of Shakespeare's verse work), which means each of those lines has ten syllables that happen in a sort of duh-DUN-duh-DUN-duh-DUN-duh-DUN-duh-DUN pattern.
- A break from this pattern, either in the rhythm of it or in the number of syllables, is intended as an insight into the mental state of the character. For example, some lines have eleven syllables and end on a down-note instead of an up-note. This could indicate sadness or madness or just general off-ness, flusteredness, or confusion.
- Just because you have come to the end of a line does not mean you have come to the end of a thought.
- Thoughts end with sentence ending punctuation, like periods, exclamation points, and questions marks.
- Commas indicate a slight pause, a breath.
- Colons and semi colons can indicate a shift in thought pattern, and often, a breath.
- Parentheses are sort of asides, or tangents.
- If a sentence ends in the middle of a verse line, the next sentence is a rather quick continuation on to the next thought, almost like the speaker is trying to avoid being interrupted. He or she still has more to say and needs to indicate that with the ending of one sentence and the beginning of the next.
- Verse line endings can indicate that a character needs to "search" for the next word by answering the questions "who," "what," "where," "when," "why," or "how," though this does not mean that every verse line needs to have a big dramatic pause before continuing on to the next.
- I learned most of this from taking classes with Susan Hart and Jeffrey Carlson and by reading Thinking Shakespeare by Barry Edelstein. I would highly recommend both these classes and this book. Seriously.
The bit that a lot of people look at when looking at this soliloquy is the first bit, "To be, or not to be, that is the question," because that is the first bit and the easiest to remember. And it can mean a million and one different things. I had a sort of awakening when one my high school teachers told us to put the iambic pentameter rhythm to the line and you realize that the emphasis falls on the "is" instead of on the "that." Also, it is an eleven syllable line, so an irregular one, indicating an irregular state of mind. So it's like Hamlet has been searching for answers and not knowing what to do, and she is finally able to identify the problem in it's basest context. The question really is, "To be or not to be." That's it. That is the question that needs to be answered. Now, a lot of people, including myself, attribute this to the contemplation of suicide. I've certainly used it in that context, as mentioned above. And it makes sense. Hamlet has been dealing with a lot of shit recently - her dad was murdered by her uncle, who then married her mom, and the ghost of her dad came back to tell her that not only is his afterlife hellish, but that she needs to avenge his death. She thinks she's going crazy, she feels betrayed by her friends Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and she hasn't really gotten to talk to her mom about any of this, which, from my point of view, would have helped a lot. I always feel better after I talk to my mom. So Hamlet gets a solitary moment (sort of, she's being spied on, as has become the norm in her life lately), and she wonders aloud whether or not she should end it. It makes sense.
But I think it makes sense in a broader context, too. Apparently, it wasn't until the German Romantics got their hands on Hamlet that she became the moody, ineffectual, emo drip we all expect her to be these days. I haven't seen the articles myself, but the man who played Claudius to my Hamlet did a bunch of research and found that the idea of Hamlet being a man of inaction wasn't so played up until the German Romantics. He had previously been depressed and angry, yes, but not quite the removed, whiny twit we associate the character with, as portrayed by, say, Ethan Hawke. If you listen to the DVD commentary of Hamlet: The Series, I believe he talks about it more intelligently than I am here, because he is the one who actually looked into it. But anyway, when I was looking at Hamlet trying to figure out how to play her, I realized that the language and her actions and whatnot don't necessarily support the idea that she is inactive or ineffectual. She coordinates with the guards to see the ghost. She follows and talks to the ghost. She tasks her friends with keeping her secrets. She concocts this whole "crazy person" personae to throw other people off of her real plan to kill Claudius. She ferrets out Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's plans to spy on her. She tries to protect Ophelia. She organizes a play, and writes a new speech to be performed in the play. She finally confronts her mother. She kills Polonius in Act III, thinking it is Claudius. She is completely prepared to fulfill her mission in Act III and does, except it is the wrong guy. She cleans that up. She escapes her own murder by having Rosencrantz and Guildenstern killed instead. And she finally returns to Denmark and gets her revenge. How can one say she does nothing in the course of the play?
So with that in mind, "to be or not to be" could also contain elements of "should Claudius be allowed to live or not" and "should I become a killer or should I not?" Which is a huge question that then speaks volumes about the motivations behind Hamlet's hesitation about killing Claudius on a whim. Many of the things she does throughout the play are to try to get proof that the ghost is telling the truth, that Claudius really did kill her dad. I think it is safe to assume that Hamlet had not previously killed anyone - her dad was the war hero, she was a scholar away at school. And the decision to take another's life is not one that should be made lightly. I think Hamlet wants to know that if she does this, if she becomes a murderer, she will be able to live with herself and the consequences afterward.
I don't think that in the performance of the line "to be or not to be," the actor has to choose only one of these options. I think that all of these thoughts exist in Hamlet at the time, so there should be elements of all of these interpretations behind this speech. It is a momentous speech designed to talk through a momentous decision, that is obviously causing her distress since she starts with four irregular verse lines in a row.
She spends the next few lines romanticizing the sleep of death, and how nice it would be to not have to deal with the shit life throws at a person, speaking very regularly and logically, before getting to the root of the problem: fear. We don't know what death is like, so it is hard to make an informed decision about whether death is a better option than life or not. She talks about how people screw each other over, about unrequited love, about the annoyances of governmental involvement, about how life just in general beats a person down, and wonders why people put up with that shit when it would be to just end it with a knife. Something as tiny and simple as a knife could make it all go away. If it wasn't for that fear that we don't know what is next. We don't know what happens after the heart stops. And that fear keeps us plugging away at what we do instead of taking action to end things and find out what's next. In more recognizable spellings:
"Thus Conscience does make Cowards of us all,
And thus the Native hue of Resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of Thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard their Currents turn away,
And lose the name of action."
We're all afraid. And as much as we might want to do something, thinking about it, thinking about the consequences and what is involved in actually doing this thing, scares us away from doing it. Because we can think about it and analyze it, we think about it twice, and out of fear, we choose inaction.
I think Hamlet is pissed off about this. Pissed off at herself, pissed off at being human, annoyed with being burdened with thought. And yes, she could be talking about why she hasn't killed herself and why she hasn't killed Claudius all at the same time. She most likely is. But if anyone (Freud) thinks that the motivations for her "inaction" are missing from the play, this is it. Right here. She is an intellectual, and killing someone (be it herself or someone else) is something she is scared of because she has no way of knowing what comes next. She is scared and frustrated and pissed off about it.
A couple of scenes after this, after she has been very publicly inappropriate with Ophelia in front of both of their parents, and after Claudius has given himself away at the sight of the play, she does stop thinking about it and shoves her knife through the curtains to kill the man who has been spying on her. Unfortunately, it is Polonius instead of Claudius on the other side of the curtain, but still. She takes action. She hits that tipping point where fear doesn't matter anymore and she does what she set out to do.
There has been a lot of talk online about Robin Williams' suicide, and whether suicide in general is selfish or cowardly or desperate or the result of depression or drug use or whatever. I already talked about my depression, and I can't begin to imagine Robin Williams'. But part of the reason "To be or not to be" is such a perfect depression soliloquy in my mind is because it shows how crappy both choices are for those considering suicide. And I think when someone finally makes that decision, as horrific as the rest of us find it, it is because they reach that tipping point where the fear of what comes next is no longer greater than the fear of plodding along with things the way they are. It is not about selfishness or cowardice or any of that. It is about needing something else. I think it takes a great deal of courage and strength to go through with it, a kind of courage and strength I hope nobody I know is ever able to find. And I think it takes a lot of courage and strength to not go through with it, and if anyone needs help finding that kind of courage and strength, please just let me know.
Again, I don't condone suicide. And the desperation that comes with needing that specific something else so badly that one has to take one's own life is tragic in the truest sense of the word. If you find yourself in that place, please find help. Talk to someone. Read this soliloquy out loud and really mean every word. Find your one little branch to hold onto. Talk to me. Suicide is not the best option. Ever. Even Hamlet gets that, even if she is not happy about it.
So that's what I'm thinking about today. How Conscious does make cowards of us all. And how sometimes that is a good thing.
I'm also wondering if I did a video blog series about various Shakespearean scenes or monologues if people would be interested in that. Maybe something to do while I'm in New York looking for other things to do. Who knows?
Friday, August 08, 2014
August 8 - The Big Scary
Okay, now that all of the people who need to know about this officially know about it, I can tell the interwebs what THE BIG SCARY is.
I'm moving to New York. In about three weeks.
We all know that I love New York, and I have said for a long time that I want to live there for a little while before I die, so I'm going now because I know if I don't go now, I probably never will. But if we're being completely honest, I can't remember a time in my life when I was more terrified of anything than I am right now.
Moving to New York is exciting. Yes, I am going to try to pursue an acting career there. My first apartment there is in Brooklyn, where I will be living with at least two, if not three, other people. I am looking for a day job that will allow me to pursue the acting career, and my brain is full of all kinds of possibilities. Maybe I should try for something at, say, Trader Joe's or Whole Foods or Starbucks so I have flexibility in my schedule. Or maybe I should go with office or temp work so I have enough money to enjoy New York while I'm there. Or maybe I should take my guitar into Central Park and play some tunes and see what happens. I'll probably do that last one regardless, because if I'm reading the regulations correctly, unless you are using an amplifier of some sort, you don't need a license to play music outside. But there are so many choices and options and possibilities in front of me right now, I'm having a little bit of a hard time focusing. And I know that many of these questions won't have answers until I get there, and while that is exciting, it is also scary. I am venturing into the unknown, and that is frightening.
I think a lot of it has to do with what I'm leaving. I'm leaving an apartment I love. I'm leaving the best circle of friends a girl could ask for. I'm leaving a brilliant, vibrant theatre scene in which I'm just starting to make a name for myself. I am leaving the comfort of my own space for shared space with people I've not actually met before. And in doing so, I'm going to have to leave behind or purge my life of all kinds of things that I thought I had settled and wouldn't have to worry about again. It's like that moment in Fight Club, where he talks about how he grew up and bought a couch, so the "buying a couch" thing could be checked off of his life list and he wouldn't have to worry about it again. Achievement accomplished: buy a couch. But since I am doing this move so much later in my life, I have a couch. I have tables. I have bins full of my history that will have nowhere (really) to live, so I have to get rid of a lot of it. Which means at some point, when I get to the next phase of my life wherein I need my own couch again, I'll have to worry about buying a new couch. Which will make me miss my old couch. I like my couch. But I'm giving it up to go on this adventure. And I'll have to worry about getting another one at some point. These are the thoughts that are clogging up my brain space and making it hard for me to not just spontaneously cry. I'm not doing well with the avoiding spontaneous crying thing.
My family and friends who know about the move are being incredibly supportive. I think they're all more excited for me than I am right now, which is kind of nice because they are reminding me to let go of some of the terror every now and again and just enjoy the fact that I'm doing something amazing. I'm following my dream. One of my friends is letting me use some garage space to store some of my history, which is so amazingly generous, I don't know how I'll be able to thank him. People have been wonderful in helping me find a place to live where Owen and I can make a new life for ourselves. And I do have friends in New York, so it's not like I'm going in totally blind. And there is always the lindy hop community - I can pick up dancing again and meet more people out there that way.
But it is entirely possible that the thing that is scaring me the most is that I am going out there to follow my dream - to be an actor - and that when I get there, I will not be cast in anything. I'm putting it all on the line and I could fail miserably. I could get out there and learn that the most I will ever achieve as an actor is to be a supporting character in storefront productions in Chicago. Not that I haven't loved being supporting characters in storefront productions in Chicago - I have - I have just been dreaming bigger for a very long time and could be smacked in the face with the lesson that there is nothing bigger for me within the next couple of years. I really hope this is not the case. Everyone to whom I have expressed this fear, that I'll not be cast in anything, thinks that it is highly unlikely that I will not get anything. Even though some of those people have never actually seen me perform, the support and positive energy is appreciated. But I'm still terrified that I will take this leap and not be able to do the thing I love most.
I'll be fine once I get there. I'm not worried about finding a job. I'm not worried about being able to pay my rent. I'm not worried about making friends and finding ways to occupy my time. I am worried that I will not be able to act. But I've also made a deal with myself that I'll try this for three years, to give it a full, fair shake, and if, after three years, I've not been cast in anything, I can always come back to Chicago. But I have to try this. I'll be very disappointed in myself if I don't at least try.
I'm terrified.
I'm excited.
But mostly terrified.
Wish me luck!
I'm moving to New York. In about three weeks.
We all know that I love New York, and I have said for a long time that I want to live there for a little while before I die, so I'm going now because I know if I don't go now, I probably never will. But if we're being completely honest, I can't remember a time in my life when I was more terrified of anything than I am right now.
Moving to New York is exciting. Yes, I am going to try to pursue an acting career there. My first apartment there is in Brooklyn, where I will be living with at least two, if not three, other people. I am looking for a day job that will allow me to pursue the acting career, and my brain is full of all kinds of possibilities. Maybe I should try for something at, say, Trader Joe's or Whole Foods or Starbucks so I have flexibility in my schedule. Or maybe I should go with office or temp work so I have enough money to enjoy New York while I'm there. Or maybe I should take my guitar into Central Park and play some tunes and see what happens. I'll probably do that last one regardless, because if I'm reading the regulations correctly, unless you are using an amplifier of some sort, you don't need a license to play music outside. But there are so many choices and options and possibilities in front of me right now, I'm having a little bit of a hard time focusing. And I know that many of these questions won't have answers until I get there, and while that is exciting, it is also scary. I am venturing into the unknown, and that is frightening.
I think a lot of it has to do with what I'm leaving. I'm leaving an apartment I love. I'm leaving the best circle of friends a girl could ask for. I'm leaving a brilliant, vibrant theatre scene in which I'm just starting to make a name for myself. I am leaving the comfort of my own space for shared space with people I've not actually met before. And in doing so, I'm going to have to leave behind or purge my life of all kinds of things that I thought I had settled and wouldn't have to worry about again. It's like that moment in Fight Club, where he talks about how he grew up and bought a couch, so the "buying a couch" thing could be checked off of his life list and he wouldn't have to worry about it again. Achievement accomplished: buy a couch. But since I am doing this move so much later in my life, I have a couch. I have tables. I have bins full of my history that will have nowhere (really) to live, so I have to get rid of a lot of it. Which means at some point, when I get to the next phase of my life wherein I need my own couch again, I'll have to worry about buying a new couch. Which will make me miss my old couch. I like my couch. But I'm giving it up to go on this adventure. And I'll have to worry about getting another one at some point. These are the thoughts that are clogging up my brain space and making it hard for me to not just spontaneously cry. I'm not doing well with the avoiding spontaneous crying thing.
My family and friends who know about the move are being incredibly supportive. I think they're all more excited for me than I am right now, which is kind of nice because they are reminding me to let go of some of the terror every now and again and just enjoy the fact that I'm doing something amazing. I'm following my dream. One of my friends is letting me use some garage space to store some of my history, which is so amazingly generous, I don't know how I'll be able to thank him. People have been wonderful in helping me find a place to live where Owen and I can make a new life for ourselves. And I do have friends in New York, so it's not like I'm going in totally blind. And there is always the lindy hop community - I can pick up dancing again and meet more people out there that way.
But it is entirely possible that the thing that is scaring me the most is that I am going out there to follow my dream - to be an actor - and that when I get there, I will not be cast in anything. I'm putting it all on the line and I could fail miserably. I could get out there and learn that the most I will ever achieve as an actor is to be a supporting character in storefront productions in Chicago. Not that I haven't loved being supporting characters in storefront productions in Chicago - I have - I have just been dreaming bigger for a very long time and could be smacked in the face with the lesson that there is nothing bigger for me within the next couple of years. I really hope this is not the case. Everyone to whom I have expressed this fear, that I'll not be cast in anything, thinks that it is highly unlikely that I will not get anything. Even though some of those people have never actually seen me perform, the support and positive energy is appreciated. But I'm still terrified that I will take this leap and not be able to do the thing I love most.
I'll be fine once I get there. I'm not worried about finding a job. I'm not worried about being able to pay my rent. I'm not worried about making friends and finding ways to occupy my time. I am worried that I will not be able to act. But I've also made a deal with myself that I'll try this for three years, to give it a full, fair shake, and if, after three years, I've not been cast in anything, I can always come back to Chicago. But I have to try this. I'll be very disappointed in myself if I don't at least try.
I'm terrified.
I'm excited.
But mostly terrified.
Wish me luck!
Labels:
anxiety,
BED2014,
empowerment,
fear,
stress
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
July 29 - Breathe
The scariest part of the Big Scary is that it is made up of dozens of other little scaries and I'm not sure which one to tackle first.
Thursday, July 24, 2014
July 24 - Benchmarks
There is something big looming on the horizon for me. Some of you know what I am talking about and some of you don't. It has been an offline conversation so far and when the time is right, I will tell everyone online all about it. This is not that time (so if you know what I'm talking about, please keep the conversation offline).
The thing about something big looming on the horizon, though, is that in order to deal with the crippling fear associated with said thing, I have found lots of little things to keep my attention in the interim. Because then, before I know it, the big thing will be here and I'll have to deal with it and I won't have too much time to think about it so I won't spend too much time being scared of it, you know? It's like, if you're planning a wedding or something, you have to break it down into little, manageable bites because looking at the whole thing at once is just too overwhelming.
Well, one of my little things ended last night. I was working on a short play in a play festival that I absolutely adored. I loved the script, I loved the cast, I loved the writer and the director. I still do. But we have now been eliminated from the competition, so the project, this project, is very abruptly over. And I am remarkably sad about it. I am sad, in part, because it was a project that I loved and believed in so much, and in part because now, without this project as a distraction, I have to look at the big scary looming on the horizon. The big scary is that much closer now. It has been bumped up in priority on my to-do list. And that is terrifying.
So today is a little rough for me. I will miss this cast and crew immensely, even though I only got to work with some of them for a couple of days. They are lovely, brilliant, talented, caring, generous people and I am not done having them in my life. I'm not done having this script in my life, either. I hope it does get fully produced one day. Thank you to the writer for giving us such lovely words and such brilliant characters to play. Thank you to the director for letting me be part of this and for being so warm, welcoming, and encouraging. Thank you to my cast mates for just plain being brilliant. I love you guys.
Now I just have a movie to make and a big scary to face. Wish me luck!
The thing about something big looming on the horizon, though, is that in order to deal with the crippling fear associated with said thing, I have found lots of little things to keep my attention in the interim. Because then, before I know it, the big thing will be here and I'll have to deal with it and I won't have too much time to think about it so I won't spend too much time being scared of it, you know? It's like, if you're planning a wedding or something, you have to break it down into little, manageable bites because looking at the whole thing at once is just too overwhelming.
Well, one of my little things ended last night. I was working on a short play in a play festival that I absolutely adored. I loved the script, I loved the cast, I loved the writer and the director. I still do. But we have now been eliminated from the competition, so the project, this project, is very abruptly over. And I am remarkably sad about it. I am sad, in part, because it was a project that I loved and believed in so much, and in part because now, without this project as a distraction, I have to look at the big scary looming on the horizon. The big scary is that much closer now. It has been bumped up in priority on my to-do list. And that is terrifying.
So today is a little rough for me. I will miss this cast and crew immensely, even though I only got to work with some of them for a couple of days. They are lovely, brilliant, talented, caring, generous people and I am not done having them in my life. I'm not done having this script in my life, either. I hope it does get fully produced one day. Thank you to the writer for giving us such lovely words and such brilliant characters to play. Thank you to the director for letting me be part of this and for being so warm, welcoming, and encouraging. Thank you to my cast mates for just plain being brilliant. I love you guys.
Now I just have a movie to make and a big scary to face. Wish me luck!
Thursday, July 17, 2014
July 17 - Little Things
Sometimes it is the little things that make all the difference. The little things can save an otherwise horrid day, like when you get a hug from a loved one or a high five from a stranger. The little things can remind you why you do what you do, like when you share a laugh with a coworker. And the little things can scare the crap out of you, like when you set a deadline and take the step toward it that means there is no turning back.
At the moment, I am all about the little things because there are too many big things to think about all at the same time. Today, the little things are scary. So I'm doing other little things to try to make them less so. And having taken my little baby steps toward big, scary goals, I'm going to lie down and snuggle with my cat. Because sometimes it is the little things that make all the difference.
At the moment, I am all about the little things because there are too many big things to think about all at the same time. Today, the little things are scary. So I'm doing other little things to try to make them less so. And having taken my little baby steps toward big, scary goals, I'm going to lie down and snuggle with my cat. Because sometimes it is the little things that make all the difference.
Monday, June 30, 2014
June 30 - Apology
I feel like I need to issue a formal apology to, well, just about everyone, both for things recently done and things that will be done in the very near future. I'm sorry I've been/am being a pain. No excuses, just an apology. I'm sorry I'm being a pain.
If you're curious to know why, I will you, though, that I think I finally know what "crippling fear" and "paralyzing self-doubt" feel like. They are aptly named, but not pleasant. At all. I know that they are brought on by decisions I have made and that they will go away eventually, but in the meantime, they are making it a little bit difficult to behave like my normal self. And they are even making me question who my normal self is. I also know that the quickest way to get rid of them would be to make the opposite decision than the one I have already made, but if I chose that route, I'm pretty sure the "crippling fear" and "paralyzing self-doubt" would be replaced by "crippling disappointment" and "paralyzing self-hatred." So I'm going through a bit of a rough patch at the moment, and it is manifesting as me being a pain.
So again, I apologize. I should not be venting my fears, frustrations, and doubts onto you; that is not fair of me. I hope we can get past this together.
If you're curious to know why, I will you, though, that I think I finally know what "crippling fear" and "paralyzing self-doubt" feel like. They are aptly named, but not pleasant. At all. I know that they are brought on by decisions I have made and that they will go away eventually, but in the meantime, they are making it a little bit difficult to behave like my normal self. And they are even making me question who my normal self is. I also know that the quickest way to get rid of them would be to make the opposite decision than the one I have already made, but if I chose that route, I'm pretty sure the "crippling fear" and "paralyzing self-doubt" would be replaced by "crippling disappointment" and "paralyzing self-hatred." So I'm going through a bit of a rough patch at the moment, and it is manifesting as me being a pain.
So again, I apologize. I should not be venting my fears, frustrations, and doubts onto you; that is not fair of me. I hope we can get past this together.
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
June 10 - Fear
The scary thing about putting oneself out there is that it opens oneself up to rejection.
The other scary thing about putting oneself out there is that it opens oneself up to acceptance.
Friday, May 02, 2014
May 2 - Vague
I made a decision a month or so ago and it's a doozie. It's one of those big, life-changing decisions that will either be the best decision I have ever made or the worst decision I have ever made. I've thought a lot about it, and about the alternative, and while the alternative is not bad, it feels less right than the choice I've made. So I'm excited.
But that doesn't mean I'm not also terrified. Absolutely terrified. Because during this sort of transition period, I'm not doing some of the things I normally do in preparation, and there are a lot of big daunting tasks ahead that I don't normally have to worry about. I feel a little off as I forego some of my regular routines to make room for new ones. So lots of thinking and planning and preparation for something that could just as likely fail as succeed. And I can only do what I can do to try to make it a success - at a certain point, it's out of my hands. But I'm going to do what I can, everything that I can, and hope for the best.
So if I seem out of sorts for a bit, it's because there are big things ahead. For real this time.
And no, I'm not getting gender-reassignment surgery, though reading this over, it almost sounds like it, doesn't it? It's not that. If you don't already know what it is, I promise I'll tell you later (or offline) with more clarity.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
March 11 - Fear
I went to an audition tonight whereat I had to sing. We all know I can sing, yet I am terrified of singing at auditions. This particular one allowed me to bring my guitar, accompany myself, and sing a folk song, so many of the things that terrify me were not present at this audition (singing acapella, choosing the wrong song). I was still terrified and nervous, and I'm not sure if it helped or it hurt that I kind of know one of the auditors, but I did it. And I think I did okay at the acting part of the audition, too.
The thing is this: the only way I've ever been able to get over a fear is to force myself to do the thing that scares me. I'm tired of having this knowledge that I can do something and the crippling fear of sharing that ability with people. I'm tired of knowing I am good enough but never believing it when I'm put in a position to show it. So I went. I went to audition for a show in which I will likely not be cast for any one of seven reasons and I sang so that hopefully, the next time I go sing at an audition, I'll be a little less afraid.
Now, if only I could apply this fear-confrontation tactic to some of my other psychological problems...
Thursday, December 12, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 04, 2013
December 4 - DIFFERENT
Social anxiety disorder is a very real thing, a disease from which many of my friends suffer, and I think I do, too, from time to time. I don't claim to be an expert on it, but I know it's a real thing. And I know it can be brought on by the oddest triggers.
For example, my eating habits. I love being vegan. I've been vegan for eleven and a half years, so I'm pretty good at it. I'm even getting better at controlling portion sizes so as my aging metabolism slows down, I hopefully won't turn into the GoodYear Blimp. Grocery shopping trips that took hours when I first converted now take just minutes as I can find the non-vegan ingredient on a package in 15 seconds or less. For me, being vegan is not a big deal. And since I'm not running around foisting veganism on anyone else, most of the time, it's not even an issue.
Until it comes time to eat with someone else. Especially for the first time.
My friends who I hang out with all of the time know I'm vegan. Most of them have only known me as a vegan and never saw me eat a cheeseburger back in the days when all I wanted was a boyfriend who would have a burger and a beer with me. They will even sometimes try their hand at making something vegan I can enjoy. But the waters of a new friendship are tricky to navigate, and when you start to feel like you're close enough friends that you could eat together, I always get these terrible pangs of anxiety. Like this person is never going to want to speak to me again when they find out that "grabbing dinner" isn't as easy as popping into a McDonald's and popping back out. If we dine in somewhere, there will inevitably be questions to ask of the server, or alterations made to the menu item I'm ordering. If it's "fast food," I'll likely be having just a salad while they have a three-course meal. There is always going to be some indicator when I dine with others that I am DIFFERENT, with a capital D, and while I know I am different in a lot of ways (and while I know that this DIFFERENT is one I chose), this is the one that will likely cause the most hassle and fuss when other people are involved. This is the biggest DIFFERENT that is visible on my sleeve, and (to some), probably the least likable.
Side note: being different is good. Being so different that you can't be friends with someone who you otherwise enjoy the company of is disappointing. Does that help clarify?
I like letting my DIFFERENT sort of sneak out in little pieces. I figure it is easier to handle that way, and often times, letting it dribble out is actually kind of endearing to new friends. The experience of dining with a vegan can be jarring for someone who is not used to dining with a vegan. I just have to hope that the sparkling conversation distracts my dinner companion from what is (or isn't) on my plate.
For example, my eating habits. I love being vegan. I've been vegan for eleven and a half years, so I'm pretty good at it. I'm even getting better at controlling portion sizes so as my aging metabolism slows down, I hopefully won't turn into the GoodYear Blimp. Grocery shopping trips that took hours when I first converted now take just minutes as I can find the non-vegan ingredient on a package in 15 seconds or less. For me, being vegan is not a big deal. And since I'm not running around foisting veganism on anyone else, most of the time, it's not even an issue.
Until it comes time to eat with someone else. Especially for the first time.
My friends who I hang out with all of the time know I'm vegan. Most of them have only known me as a vegan and never saw me eat a cheeseburger back in the days when all I wanted was a boyfriend who would have a burger and a beer with me. They will even sometimes try their hand at making something vegan I can enjoy. But the waters of a new friendship are tricky to navigate, and when you start to feel like you're close enough friends that you could eat together, I always get these terrible pangs of anxiety. Like this person is never going to want to speak to me again when they find out that "grabbing dinner" isn't as easy as popping into a McDonald's and popping back out. If we dine in somewhere, there will inevitably be questions to ask of the server, or alterations made to the menu item I'm ordering. If it's "fast food," I'll likely be having just a salad while they have a three-course meal. There is always going to be some indicator when I dine with others that I am DIFFERENT, with a capital D, and while I know I am different in a lot of ways (and while I know that this DIFFERENT is one I chose), this is the one that will likely cause the most hassle and fuss when other people are involved. This is the biggest DIFFERENT that is visible on my sleeve, and (to some), probably the least likable.
Side note: being different is good. Being so different that you can't be friends with someone who you otherwise enjoy the company of is disappointing. Does that help clarify?
I like letting my DIFFERENT sort of sneak out in little pieces. I figure it is easier to handle that way, and often times, letting it dribble out is actually kind of endearing to new friends. The experience of dining with a vegan can be jarring for someone who is not used to dining with a vegan. I just have to hope that the sparkling conversation distracts my dinner companion from what is (or isn't) on my plate.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
October 31 - Happy Halloween
Happy Halloween!
I love Halloween. Always have. I like playing dress up and having fun, so what's not to like, right? I wore my Tenth Doctor suit to work today and am the only one in the office in the holiday spirit. Oh well. I think I managed to scare the guy at the sandwich shop, though, with the depths of my nerdery. So that's a good thing.
But anyway, moving on. You know when you can start to feel a crush coming on? You've met someone who sort of strikes your fancy, but maybe you're not looking for anything at the moment or the object of your growing crush is already spoken for or whatever so you're trying not to have a crush, but you kind of can't help it and you feel one coming on anyway? So you look the person up online to try to find something about them that you just can't deal with so you won't have to develop a full-on crush, but maybe the things you find make you like the person just a wee bit more. And you start thinking about the next time you are going to see said person, and you parse out your last conversation with said person for some sort of hidden meaning that might indicate that he or she is starting to develop a crush on you, too, and you start beating yourself up thinking, "Just talk to the person, gosh darn it! Use your words!" But somehow, the words all sound dumb. And you think maybe if you had an email address, you could craft what you wanted to say so that it didn't sound completely moronic, and you might even be able to infuse the message with some wit and charm so that if said person is starting to develop a crush on you, he or she might be pushed over the edge by your message? But you also want to keep things light so you can always fall back on the, "I'm not looking for anything; I just think we would make good friends" excuse to cover your ass if he or she is not interested. Or maybe all that is necessary is taking that one simple step to say "hi" when they're not expecting you to, but if you send an email that just says, "Hi," then you're officially an internet creeper which is the last thing you want them to think that you are even though you now know all sorts of intimate details of this person's life because you spent what should have been a full, productive work day reading his or her blog posts from the past ten years?
I'm thinking about sending an email.
I love Halloween. Always have. I like playing dress up and having fun, so what's not to like, right? I wore my Tenth Doctor suit to work today and am the only one in the office in the holiday spirit. Oh well. I think I managed to scare the guy at the sandwich shop, though, with the depths of my nerdery. So that's a good thing.
But anyway, moving on. You know when you can start to feel a crush coming on? You've met someone who sort of strikes your fancy, but maybe you're not looking for anything at the moment or the object of your growing crush is already spoken for or whatever so you're trying not to have a crush, but you kind of can't help it and you feel one coming on anyway? So you look the person up online to try to find something about them that you just can't deal with so you won't have to develop a full-on crush, but maybe the things you find make you like the person just a wee bit more. And you start thinking about the next time you are going to see said person, and you parse out your last conversation with said person for some sort of hidden meaning that might indicate that he or she is starting to develop a crush on you, too, and you start beating yourself up thinking, "Just talk to the person, gosh darn it! Use your words!" But somehow, the words all sound dumb. And you think maybe if you had an email address, you could craft what you wanted to say so that it didn't sound completely moronic, and you might even be able to infuse the message with some wit and charm so that if said person is starting to develop a crush on you, he or she might be pushed over the edge by your message? But you also want to keep things light so you can always fall back on the, "I'm not looking for anything; I just think we would make good friends" excuse to cover your ass if he or she is not interested. Or maybe all that is necessary is taking that one simple step to say "hi" when they're not expecting you to, but if you send an email that just says, "Hi," then you're officially an internet creeper which is the last thing you want them to think that you are even though you now know all sorts of intimate details of this person's life because you spent what should have been a full, productive work day reading his or her blog posts from the past ten years?
I'm thinking about sending an email.
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
October 23
This one is going to be tough to write, so please bear with me.
The scene I did for class last night is one I've done before. I did the same scene the first time I took this class, but I played the opposite role, and it wrecked me. The basic premise is two women, roommates, best friends living in New York. One lost her parents as a child and was raised by her uncle. She is doing well, in a show, has a boyfriend. The other is currently between shows and single. The first woman had a pick-up rehearsal last night and ended up staying at her boyfriend's. The uncle used that time to rape the second woman.
Now, the first time I did this scene, I was the woman with the uncle and I had built him up in my mind to be this paragon of loving perfection, so to come into the scene and find out that he had raped my roommate...I found myself blaming her. When the scene was over, I was mortified that my brain went there without the slightest hesitation. It made me question the kind of loyalty I feel toward my family and the kind of loyalty I feel toward my girl friends. What would I do if one of my girl friends told me she had been raped? I would like to think I would be the supportive type, I would like to think I would be there to help her however I could, but after doing this scene for the first time, I had to wonder if I really would. Would I?
In the scene last night, I played the rape victim, which was a terrifying place for me to go. To imagine experiencing that. To be honest, I have had experiences that were less than mutually consensual, but they were not violent. I've even had experiences where the guy was having problems performing and I ended up feeling like an aggressor in my attempts to help him along. None of these were pleasant experiences and they all left me feeling worthless and ashamed. And for last night's class, I had to draw from all of them and add an element of violence and terror and betrayal, which was absolutely miserable. What struck me most, though, is that my scene partner last night had the same reactions I had when I played her role - she didn't believe me, she said I was making it up, she said I must have done something.
When the scene was over, the teacher called me out on my "go-to" place of wild, furious anger. She keeps seeing me go to this big, loud, angry place in my work, dismissing it as me "being dramatic." Part of me thinks it is the nature of the scenes - they are specifically designed to be so full of direct conflict that they push you as a performer to go to the deep, dark, scary places you don't really want to go. But part of me wonders if this means I am an inherently angry person. Thinking about it, I know I have a lot of anger about things in my life - bad relationships, work frustrations, stupid bicyclists not paying attention to the rules of the road. And I know that these are all things to which I could have a different reaction, but I sort of feel like I need to work through the anger first to get to a satisfactory resolution. And I haven't done that yet. So it is coming out on stage, which is the safe place for me to yell and scream in somebody's face.
I hope that I am not known as an angry person. I hope that I am not known as a mean person. I hope I am not known as the kind of girl friend who would blame her friend for getting raped instead of blaming the rapist. I know that all of my life experiences have made me the person that I am today, and I hope I am not deluding myself when I tell myself I am not a bad person.
I told one of my girl friends that the way I try to come down after a scene like this is to remember that acting is "living truthfully under imaginary circumstances," and since the circumstances are imaginary, the reactions, though they felt right in the moment, are imaginary, too, in the context of my real life. I don't know that the circumstances for this scene are imaginary enough for me. I hope I never have to experience the imaginary circumstances of the scene I did last night outside of the context of a theater.
The scene I did for class last night is one I've done before. I did the same scene the first time I took this class, but I played the opposite role, and it wrecked me. The basic premise is two women, roommates, best friends living in New York. One lost her parents as a child and was raised by her uncle. She is doing well, in a show, has a boyfriend. The other is currently between shows and single. The first woman had a pick-up rehearsal last night and ended up staying at her boyfriend's. The uncle used that time to rape the second woman.
Now, the first time I did this scene, I was the woman with the uncle and I had built him up in my mind to be this paragon of loving perfection, so to come into the scene and find out that he had raped my roommate...I found myself blaming her. When the scene was over, I was mortified that my brain went there without the slightest hesitation. It made me question the kind of loyalty I feel toward my family and the kind of loyalty I feel toward my girl friends. What would I do if one of my girl friends told me she had been raped? I would like to think I would be the supportive type, I would like to think I would be there to help her however I could, but after doing this scene for the first time, I had to wonder if I really would. Would I?
In the scene last night, I played the rape victim, which was a terrifying place for me to go. To imagine experiencing that. To be honest, I have had experiences that were less than mutually consensual, but they were not violent. I've even had experiences where the guy was having problems performing and I ended up feeling like an aggressor in my attempts to help him along. None of these were pleasant experiences and they all left me feeling worthless and ashamed. And for last night's class, I had to draw from all of them and add an element of violence and terror and betrayal, which was absolutely miserable. What struck me most, though, is that my scene partner last night had the same reactions I had when I played her role - she didn't believe me, she said I was making it up, she said I must have done something.
When the scene was over, the teacher called me out on my "go-to" place of wild, furious anger. She keeps seeing me go to this big, loud, angry place in my work, dismissing it as me "being dramatic." Part of me thinks it is the nature of the scenes - they are specifically designed to be so full of direct conflict that they push you as a performer to go to the deep, dark, scary places you don't really want to go. But part of me wonders if this means I am an inherently angry person. Thinking about it, I know I have a lot of anger about things in my life - bad relationships, work frustrations, stupid bicyclists not paying attention to the rules of the road. And I know that these are all things to which I could have a different reaction, but I sort of feel like I need to work through the anger first to get to a satisfactory resolution. And I haven't done that yet. So it is coming out on stage, which is the safe place for me to yell and scream in somebody's face.
I hope that I am not known as an angry person. I hope that I am not known as a mean person. I hope I am not known as the kind of girl friend who would blame her friend for getting raped instead of blaming the rapist. I know that all of my life experiences have made me the person that I am today, and I hope I am not deluding myself when I tell myself I am not a bad person.
I told one of my girl friends that the way I try to come down after a scene like this is to remember that acting is "living truthfully under imaginary circumstances," and since the circumstances are imaginary, the reactions, though they felt right in the moment, are imaginary, too, in the context of my real life. I don't know that the circumstances for this scene are imaginary enough for me. I hope I never have to experience the imaginary circumstances of the scene I did last night outside of the context of a theater.
Monday, October 21, 2013
October 21 - Ice Cream Play
I'm taking an acting class again that I have taken before. You will likely hear the actors you most respect telling you that one can never master acting and that one must always be pushing oneself to learn. I agree with this wholeheartedly, which is why I still take classes, why I will take a class more than once, and why I put as much effort into classwork as I do any other performance endeavor. That said...
I think what I'm getting from this class this time around is a sense that I still have a long way to go, and a feeling that the best theatre is the theatre that scares the crap out of you as an actor, but you do it anyway. The scenes I've done so far for this class have involved me holding a grudge for three years, cheating on my husband and getting pregnant by another man, and dealing with the loss of my husband whose funeral I missed for rather selfish reasons. These involved a lot of work, a lot of time, a lot of energy, a lot of thought beforehand, and a lot of personal emotional investment during. And each one terrified me in its own way. The scene I have to do tomorrow is also scaring the crap out of me, but I don't want to say why on the off chance one of my classmates is reading this and might get a heads-up as to what's going on. Suffice it to say, I'm having to go to some pretty dark places on a weekly basis.
I had an audition over the weekend that was frightening in another way, as there was a lot of physical movement involved, so there was a physical freedom and emotional vulnerability into which we had to tap as performers. I ended up skinning my knee as I threw myself into the challenge of it. And while I'm not sure I'm the best fit for the role, it was so much fun to throw myself into that task and it would be an amazing opportunity to get to explore that further.
I also read a play for which I will be auditioning this coming weekend that is teeming with vulnerable moments, great cover-ups, and emotional explosions. It left me feeling drained after reading it, knowing the kind of work that will have to go into the character I am auditioning for if I am lucky enough to play her. Being able to take her on the journey she goes on, to go to the places she needs to go to make the choices she makes...
And the thing is, through all of this, the thought of putting in all of that work, of exploring the human condition at its best and at its worst is what gets me most excited about working on a project. I did a short play a couple of years ago that was just gut-wrenching for both of us in the scene, and hard for the audience to watch, too, as they see these people crumble in front of them. We would finish rehearsals wanting just simply to collapse. My scene partner referred to the show as an "ice cream play," in that when it's over, you really need to go home and have a bowl of ice cream. I want every show I do to be an "ice cream play" in its own way.
This is not to say that every show has to be drama-filled or that I always want to play a murderer with a heart of gold or anything like that. The show I'm in right now is a comedy and is rather physically involved. And I'm finding that if I put the same energy into the humor and the comedic timing and the fight sequences and into trying to make my scene partners look good, I still walk away from rehearsal exhausted and in need of ice cream. And I love it. There is something so fulfilling to me about working myself to the point of complete mental and physical exhaustion and then getting up and doing it all again the next day. I guess it is how I know I am alive.
Please let me always be working. Please let me always be making art that challenges the audience and myself. Please let me always be able to find my vulnerability so I can remind the audience of theirs. Please let me always be able to give my scene partners the gift of my full attention and full effort.
Please let me always be doing ice cream plays.
I think what I'm getting from this class this time around is a sense that I still have a long way to go, and a feeling that the best theatre is the theatre that scares the crap out of you as an actor, but you do it anyway. The scenes I've done so far for this class have involved me holding a grudge for three years, cheating on my husband and getting pregnant by another man, and dealing with the loss of my husband whose funeral I missed for rather selfish reasons. These involved a lot of work, a lot of time, a lot of energy, a lot of thought beforehand, and a lot of personal emotional investment during. And each one terrified me in its own way. The scene I have to do tomorrow is also scaring the crap out of me, but I don't want to say why on the off chance one of my classmates is reading this and might get a heads-up as to what's going on. Suffice it to say, I'm having to go to some pretty dark places on a weekly basis.
I had an audition over the weekend that was frightening in another way, as there was a lot of physical movement involved, so there was a physical freedom and emotional vulnerability into which we had to tap as performers. I ended up skinning my knee as I threw myself into the challenge of it. And while I'm not sure I'm the best fit for the role, it was so much fun to throw myself into that task and it would be an amazing opportunity to get to explore that further.
I also read a play for which I will be auditioning this coming weekend that is teeming with vulnerable moments, great cover-ups, and emotional explosions. It left me feeling drained after reading it, knowing the kind of work that will have to go into the character I am auditioning for if I am lucky enough to play her. Being able to take her on the journey she goes on, to go to the places she needs to go to make the choices she makes...
And the thing is, through all of this, the thought of putting in all of that work, of exploring the human condition at its best and at its worst is what gets me most excited about working on a project. I did a short play a couple of years ago that was just gut-wrenching for both of us in the scene, and hard for the audience to watch, too, as they see these people crumble in front of them. We would finish rehearsals wanting just simply to collapse. My scene partner referred to the show as an "ice cream play," in that when it's over, you really need to go home and have a bowl of ice cream. I want every show I do to be an "ice cream play" in its own way.
This is not to say that every show has to be drama-filled or that I always want to play a murderer with a heart of gold or anything like that. The show I'm in right now is a comedy and is rather physically involved. And I'm finding that if I put the same energy into the humor and the comedic timing and the fight sequences and into trying to make my scene partners look good, I still walk away from rehearsal exhausted and in need of ice cream. And I love it. There is something so fulfilling to me about working myself to the point of complete mental and physical exhaustion and then getting up and doing it all again the next day. I guess it is how I know I am alive.
Please let me always be working. Please let me always be making art that challenges the audience and myself. Please let me always be able to find my vulnerability so I can remind the audience of theirs. Please let me always be able to give my scene partners the gift of my full attention and full effort.
Please let me always be doing ice cream plays.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
October 12 - Single
I had a panic attack this morning. A pretty bad one. The kind where my breathing gets heavy and I feel shaky and my mind is racing and the thought of interacting with other human beings paralyzes me. But I have a lot to do this weekend, and coming up with excuses for not doing those things was also terrifying and exhausting. I feel a little bit bad for being glad that the weather called my outdoor plans into question, and then a little worse that the storm did not arrive as expected. But my audition and the party I have to go to tonight? Those we're going to be harder to get out of. I tried to convince myself that I'm not right for the show I was auditioning for, that I would be doing them a favor by respectfully canceling. But I didn't. I went.
Theater cures all.
I have no idea if I will be cast in this show. At this point, that's not the important part. I went. I acted for a minute. I made people smile. I chatted about the representation of women in media. And I'm going over the conversation again and again in my head, wishing I had said something different. But it calmed me down. It made the world less scary. It made people less scary. It helped me breathe again and feel like a normal person.
When people ask me why I act, I have to remember moments like these. Walking into a theater and feeling like I'm home, I'm safe, and I am valued. I am awesome in theaters. Which is exactly why I want to dedicate my life to working in them.
Theater cures all.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
October 10 - Freak Out
Last night, I thought I lost my phone.
I've not lost my phone before. Not really. I have the occasional mini-freak out when I thought I put my phone in the cute little cell phone pocket inside my purse, but it actually fell into the larger pocket. But I've not ever actually left my phone anywhere where it shouldn't be before.
Until last night.
I'm not even sure exactly how it happened. I was at rehearsal, and had carpooled there with a couple of my cast mates. I was the last to be dropped off. When I got home, I took out my contacts, put on my pajamas, and started getting ready for bed. I went to my purse to get my phone to make sure I charged it overnight and to set my alarm for the morning, but it wasn't in my purse. I checked the pockets of my jeans, and the pockets of my sweater. No phone. I looked in the cabinets, on the counters, in the fridge, thinking maybe I had set it down in one of those places and forgotten about it in the three minutes since. No phone. I looked again in my purse, emptying all of the pockets. No phone. I looked again in the pockets of my jeans, the pockets of my sweater (which had not magically gotten heavier by the weight of a cell phone since the last time I checked), I dug through my laundry basket thinking maybe it had fallen out in there. No phone. I looked in the stairwell of my apartment building. No phone. The feeling started to settle in to the pit of my stomach - I am without communication. I can't text anyone to see if they know where it is. I can't call anyone to ask them to call it so the ringing will locate the phone for me. Even if I could call the phone, it was probably still on silent from rehearsal, so would that help? I logged on to my Gmail account and used the Google Hangout function or whatever it is (Gchat, maybe?) to call my phone from my computer as I walked around my apartment listening for the vibrations. Nothing.
So I started retracing my steps. I knew I had my phone at rehearsal, and I could have sworn I put it back in my purse. I thought I had it when I left the theater... Please, dear god, don't let me have forgotten my phone in the theater. My next rehearsal is Friday night and there was no way I could make it to Friday night without my phone. I just couldn't. My brain did not want to entertain that notion, though my gut was telling me, the phone was in the theater. But then I thought of one other place I could look first - the car of the cast mate who drove me home last night.
I emailed him, because that's all I had, and he replied an excruciatingly long two minutes later saying that yes, my phone had been left in his car. He was in possession of it and did I need him to bring it back over? I threw my normal clothes back on and said I could come get it from him if he gave me an address. He did. I repeated his address out loud to myself the entire way to his apartment to make sure I wouldn't forget it, as I would have no way to access my email to verify the address once on the road. I was a bit thrown by the one-way streets in his neighborhood, but finally managed to find his apartment and retrieve my phone. I have been touching my phone approximately every ten minutes since then, thrilled to have it back in my possession, terrified to lose it again and go through the terror of not knowing where it is.
On my way home, I also found myself beating myself up for watching too many sitcoms and such. Because it occurred to me that a common sitcom plot device for two people about to hook up for the first time, is that one of them will come up with a bogus excuse to go to the other one's place (or invite the other one over) late at night and then a move can be made. Or, that psycho girls who want to lay their claim to a specific man will leave a personal item at his place (or in his car) so they'll have to interact again. Neither of these things was my intent. I was not looking for a booty call, I am not laying claim to this fellow cast member, and I wasn't looking for some excuse to see him again. I just wanted my phone back. Even if that was my intent, I'll see him pretty regularly for the next month as we're in this show together so the "leaving the phone in the car" thing is kind of silly. And then, do I have to apologize to him on the off chance he was expecting me to come over for something other than cell phone retrieval? Because if he was on the same page that I was, that conversation will become very awkward very fast and I'll feel like an even bigger dink than I already do for forgetting my phone in someone else's car.
Needless to say, I'm not feeling very mentally great today. Huge freak out + huge relief + huge psychosomatic embarrassment = Kitty is having an off day. Here's hoping tomorrow is better.
I've not lost my phone before. Not really. I have the occasional mini-freak out when I thought I put my phone in the cute little cell phone pocket inside my purse, but it actually fell into the larger pocket. But I've not ever actually left my phone anywhere where it shouldn't be before.
Until last night.
I'm not even sure exactly how it happened. I was at rehearsal, and had carpooled there with a couple of my cast mates. I was the last to be dropped off. When I got home, I took out my contacts, put on my pajamas, and started getting ready for bed. I went to my purse to get my phone to make sure I charged it overnight and to set my alarm for the morning, but it wasn't in my purse. I checked the pockets of my jeans, and the pockets of my sweater. No phone. I looked in the cabinets, on the counters, in the fridge, thinking maybe I had set it down in one of those places and forgotten about it in the three minutes since. No phone. I looked again in my purse, emptying all of the pockets. No phone. I looked again in the pockets of my jeans, the pockets of my sweater (which had not magically gotten heavier by the weight of a cell phone since the last time I checked), I dug through my laundry basket thinking maybe it had fallen out in there. No phone. I looked in the stairwell of my apartment building. No phone. The feeling started to settle in to the pit of my stomach - I am without communication. I can't text anyone to see if they know where it is. I can't call anyone to ask them to call it so the ringing will locate the phone for me. Even if I could call the phone, it was probably still on silent from rehearsal, so would that help? I logged on to my Gmail account and used the Google Hangout function or whatever it is (Gchat, maybe?) to call my phone from my computer as I walked around my apartment listening for the vibrations. Nothing.
So I started retracing my steps. I knew I had my phone at rehearsal, and I could have sworn I put it back in my purse. I thought I had it when I left the theater... Please, dear god, don't let me have forgotten my phone in the theater. My next rehearsal is Friday night and there was no way I could make it to Friday night without my phone. I just couldn't. My brain did not want to entertain that notion, though my gut was telling me, the phone was in the theater. But then I thought of one other place I could look first - the car of the cast mate who drove me home last night.
I emailed him, because that's all I had, and he replied an excruciatingly long two minutes later saying that yes, my phone had been left in his car. He was in possession of it and did I need him to bring it back over? I threw my normal clothes back on and said I could come get it from him if he gave me an address. He did. I repeated his address out loud to myself the entire way to his apartment to make sure I wouldn't forget it, as I would have no way to access my email to verify the address once on the road. I was a bit thrown by the one-way streets in his neighborhood, but finally managed to find his apartment and retrieve my phone. I have been touching my phone approximately every ten minutes since then, thrilled to have it back in my possession, terrified to lose it again and go through the terror of not knowing where it is.
On my way home, I also found myself beating myself up for watching too many sitcoms and such. Because it occurred to me that a common sitcom plot device for two people about to hook up for the first time, is that one of them will come up with a bogus excuse to go to the other one's place (or invite the other one over) late at night and then a move can be made. Or, that psycho girls who want to lay their claim to a specific man will leave a personal item at his place (or in his car) so they'll have to interact again. Neither of these things was my intent. I was not looking for a booty call, I am not laying claim to this fellow cast member, and I wasn't looking for some excuse to see him again. I just wanted my phone back. Even if that was my intent, I'll see him pretty regularly for the next month as we're in this show together so the "leaving the phone in the car" thing is kind of silly. And then, do I have to apologize to him on the off chance he was expecting me to come over for something other than cell phone retrieval? Because if he was on the same page that I was, that conversation will become very awkward very fast and I'll feel like an even bigger dink than I already do for forgetting my phone in someone else's car.
Needless to say, I'm not feeling very mentally great today. Huge freak out + huge relief + huge psychosomatic embarrassment = Kitty is having an off day. Here's hoping tomorrow is better.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
September 25 - Love
Fear of a new room
Will I be liked? Will I fall?
Artists will catch me
Monday, September 16, 2013
September 16 - Squeamish
I don't get squeamish very much anymore. Cockroaches still creep me out, and the waterbugs that like to charge at me from the drains in the laundry room in my building. Spiders don't bother me, nor does blood, really. As a pet owner, bodily functions are just kind of meh. I'm sure parents go through the same thing, where after a while, changing diapers isn't so much gross as it is just a fact of life. So yeah, I don't get squeamish very much anymore.
Despite this, I found myself having a very squeamish moment over the weekend when I was afforded the opportunity to watch a snippet of one of my Hamlet video messages. Which is also weird, because for the most part, I have gotten used to seeing myself on film. I've done several films, short and full-length, and I've edited myself in over 100 YouTube videos, so I know all of the little weird things my face does more intimately than I should. Claudius pulled out his phone, though, and offered to let my friends and I see one of my video messages that he had watched on his phone during the filming of the project and I fled. I crumpled into a whimpering ball of girl and hid my face while my friends watched it. They said it was great; I just couldn't. I just couldn't. Why is that?
I think this might be one of those occasions wherein the phrase "too soon" would be appropriately employed. I've not finished mourning Hamlet, so I don't think I have enough distance from the project to be able to watch it objectively. I know I am going to watch it and pick apart every little thing I wish I had done differently. It will take a few viewings before I am able to look at it as a complete piece of work and not a series of my own (failed? successful?) attempts at being Hamlet.
Which I think means I am absolutely terrified to see the final project at the moment. Absolutely terrified. And I find myself wondering how I will take people's reactions to it - will I take any compliments as people just being nice and any criticisms as gospel truth? Who will be able to tell me I did a good job in such a way that I will believe it? Whose validation am I seeking in regard to this project? And why do I need external validation - hasn't the journey been enough?
I want it to be done so I can rip off the Band-Aid of anticipation and just watch the darn thing already. Though I may have to watch it through my own fingers the first couple of times, as I hide in a fetal position. I'll get over it eventually. Just not quite yet.
Despite this, I found myself having a very squeamish moment over the weekend when I was afforded the opportunity to watch a snippet of one of my Hamlet video messages. Which is also weird, because for the most part, I have gotten used to seeing myself on film. I've done several films, short and full-length, and I've edited myself in over 100 YouTube videos, so I know all of the little weird things my face does more intimately than I should. Claudius pulled out his phone, though, and offered to let my friends and I see one of my video messages that he had watched on his phone during the filming of the project and I fled. I crumpled into a whimpering ball of girl and hid my face while my friends watched it. They said it was great; I just couldn't. I just couldn't. Why is that?
I think this might be one of those occasions wherein the phrase "too soon" would be appropriately employed. I've not finished mourning Hamlet, so I don't think I have enough distance from the project to be able to watch it objectively. I know I am going to watch it and pick apart every little thing I wish I had done differently. It will take a few viewings before I am able to look at it as a complete piece of work and not a series of my own (failed? successful?) attempts at being Hamlet.
Which I think means I am absolutely terrified to see the final project at the moment. Absolutely terrified. And I find myself wondering how I will take people's reactions to it - will I take any compliments as people just being nice and any criticisms as gospel truth? Who will be able to tell me I did a good job in such a way that I will believe it? Whose validation am I seeking in regard to this project? And why do I need external validation - hasn't the journey been enough?
I want it to be done so I can rip off the Band-Aid of anticipation and just watch the darn thing already. Though I may have to watch it through my own fingers the first couple of times, as I hide in a fetal position. I'll get over it eventually. Just not quite yet.
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