Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Beginning Again. The Last Entry.

Beginning again.  How many more times will I have to start over?  How many more moves? Jobs? Will I ever stay in one place?  Will it ever feel right? I. Have. No. Idea.

 
The year is over.  One of my goals was to get my Masters in Acting by the time I was thirty.  My birthday is in 8 minutes.  And I did it.  And I have had the best year of my life so far.  I began this year unhappy, flabby, dissatisfied, scared, and without hope that I could be a working actor but knowing there was nothing else in the world I could see myself doing.  I am leaving grad school happy, toned, stable (as stable as an actor can be), still scared, but KNOWING I can do this. 

I know the unpredictability of this business.  I know that even if I were the next Meryl Streep, it wouldn’t be worth a damn without a little luck and being in the right place at the right time.  I may never get the career I want.  But I know it will not be for the lack of trying.  I know I will be brave enough to show up.  I am ready for that. 

There may have been Olympic sized flaws to this programme, but being able to walk out of here with that self knowledge, willingness, and drive, has made the debt, the intense highs and lows, and the loneliness all worth it.  I know what it is to be unhappy.  And I know what it is that makes me that way.  Therefore, I know how much I appreciate a good day, a happy moment, and an instant of progress.  I value every opportunity I have been given. I am so lucky.  I have lived in Europe for a year.  Studying and doing what I love.  With good people.

But though I wish my stay in the UK were longer, it is time to go. 

As for all of you out there who have kept up with this blog, thank you.  You have kept me honest.  I did not know that writing this would be therapeutic, a creative outlet, and a way for me to know myself better.  I don’t know how I’ll do without it.  It has been my comfort and my release.  It has been my conscience and my connection with the world outside my head.  There have been people who have written me, people whom I’ve not spoken to in years sometimes, and tell me that I either made them laugh or that they felt the same way.  It’s nice to know that it has done some good.  And it certainly made me feel less lonely. 

Sometimes when I speak to people, I don’t know how much I actually say or how much of what I want to say comes across in real life.  But this blog has been the first time where my thoughts and words feel like they connected.  So thank you for tagging along.  Thank you for my peace of mind. 

I don’t know if I’ll start another blog.  Maybe when I get back to New York City.  Maybe not.  Maybe it’s not good to let people see too much of your life for too long.  We’ll see.    Whatever is next, I just pray that it’s better; that things just keep getting better.  That I keep getting better. 

We are works in progress.  We are ever evolving.  Ever reaching.  And ever hopeful.

So.  Here’s to new beginnings…again.

 

Thinking of you   x

For My Cohort


I decided to write two entries for the final posts.  This one is about and for my cohort members.   I would like to give thanks and talk about those people who made me better on so many levels.  Throughout my writings, I’ve avoided using real names.  But they deserve to be known, so I’ll make an exception.  I hope they won’t mind.

 
Keith Traver

Keith is a sweet pea.  He is part boy and part dude.  Affectionate and incredibly supportive.  He goes out of the way to help a friend even when that friend (i.e. Me) is cranky whilst doing battle with the Laundromat.  He’ll bring by coffee and a hug.  He has a willingness to try anything in rehearsal and I admire that.  He is the guy who will catch you when you fall.  He will post the perfect youtube video or meme on your fb wall to brighten your day.   And he makes a mean cherry klafouti.

 

Phil Bartlett

I’ve been so blessed to have had him as a director for numerous projects.  I joke with him by saying that when he becomes a big deal in five years, I’ll ride on his coat tails and he’ll hire me and get me back to the UK.  To which he replies, with his rapier wit,  “Darling. 5 years?  Give me three.”  I believe it.  He has excellent instincts and an eye for quality.  My favorite thing about him though isn’t about theatre.  Phil always has what I call a “song in his heart” that plays and makes him dance.  All the time.  He also, when explaining something, emphasizes important points by doing an arabesque.  I love this.  I’d work with Phil any day.  Because I respect him.  And I trust him.  And he will only get better and better over time.

 

Nick Bayne

He and I may not have always clicked.  But I truly enjoyed working with him on our last project.  He’s a good guy with a good heart and has the best intentions.  He wants so badly to do well and has a great passion for food.  There was a point when he and I butted heads back in January.  I laid into him more than I should have.  He came back the next day, plopped himself down next to me, and apologized flat out.  No excuses, no justifications.  At that moment, I found a new respect for him.  That takes balls.  I’m not an easy person at times and he had enough gumption to take me down a peg through openness and forgiveness.  Nick knows how to forgive.  That’s very special.

 

Michael-Alan Read

Oh, Michael-Alan.  I can honestly say I’ve never met anyone like him.  He’s had one of the biggest years of his life on all levels.  It wasn’t just the fact he was challenged with crazy and intense roles this year, though he met them head on.  He’s changed or rather rewired or maybe just discovered who he’s always been.  It was like he arrived here carrying massive suitcases, each filled with a past demon or anxiety, and throughout the year we’ve watched him hurl them off, one at a time.  He’s sensitive and crass.  He’s hilarious and honest.  He’s forgiving of others and loves loyally.  He’s one of the most beautiful and generous people I know.  And for some reason, he thinks I’m pretty great as well.  I have no filter with him.  I can say things exactly as I think them; A luxury, for me.  I think he may be the only one in this universe that I don’t have to censor a thing.  And that’s because he doesn’t have one either.  It’s like taking a mini holiday for the brain.  MAR (as we call him, often) is someone who’s heart is in the right place and it puts a crack in mine to know that he’ll be staying in the UK and I won’t be able to take him home with me.  But he’s just married his Scottish “bub” and I wish them all the greatest joys together. …and besides, it just means I have somewhere to visit when I come back.  For wherever MAR is, I know a 1980’s power ballad baking extravaganza is waiting.

 

Ashleigh Kasabowski

I will buy her folk album when it comes out.  I envy people who have music inside them that is their very own.  Physically, she’s this little ball of energy.  A wrecking ball of force.  And she has sheer will that propels her to stand up first, give anything a try, and push herself harder, faster, higher.  Ashleigh will do very well.  Because she won’t allow anything else.  Just wait.  You’ll see.

 

Maria McColgan

Maria has one step in fairy land and one step on earth.  There is nothing else in the world that wants to do but theatre.  Whether it is paid/unpaid/indoor/outdoor, it doesn’t matter.  She has an incredible capacity to hope.  She sees the world for its possibilities. If she reads for a part, it will be unlike any other person you’ve heard.  Not just because her voice is pure liquid gold, warm and rich, but because she just works on a different frequency.  I can honestly say there’s no one like her. 

 

Amber Lageman

I feel like I’ve just now begun to get to know this little spark plug.  And I am so sad that I hadn’t made the effort to get to know her sooner.  She’s lovely.  She’s got the this busting at the seams kind of laugh and a gift for reaching for heart wrenching emotion in a scene at a moment’s notice.  She is low drama, loves to dance with a freedom that I only have when no one is watching, and keeps things simple.  I’m thankful she’s one of the few that will be coming back to America with me.  It’s nice to know there’s someone who’s heart is in the right place that will be near me. 

 

Lance Fuller

Man, does anyone get any quirkier?  It’s brilliant.  I never know what he’s going to do or say.  Lance found his footing in the UK quicker than most.  It just felt like he belonged here.  He’d always be out and about experiencing new places, beers, things.  He’s got great taste in sneakers.  And I couldn’t be happier that he has found someone to love and to love him for exactly who he is.  He’s good people. 

 

John [no middle name but that’s ok because my surname is awesome enough] Scougall

John is someone that I wish I knew better.  But I know enough to respect him as a person and as a professional.  He is incredible.  Period.  He’s the person who set the bar for me as an actor.  I may not have worked with him much, but with every performance he gave, I immediately thought, “well shit, I’m going to have to try harder, do better, be better.”  He probably never even knew it and would probably embarrass him if he ever read this.  Because John just does his job.  He’s so good at cutting through the crap. He can network the pants off of anyone, he can carry on a conversation with anyone, and he has an abundance of kindness and humor that is infectious.  He’s good to have around when you need perspective, he has a wealth of knowledge when it comes to centering yourself, and he has sensitivity towards human beings.  I don’t really know how else to describe it.  He can sense when you are struggling and he knows how to cheer you up or help you find clarity.  He has a clear line between personal and professional and knows this is a business but also a playground.  And if you ever get him on one of his naughty days, you know you’re in for a ride.  Yes, he has excellent focus.  But when he gets in one of his delightfully devious moods, you can guarantee that very little will get done, unpredictability will occur, and you won’t mind it one bit.  The best advice John has ever given me was when we were at the Globe.  We were doing some intense exercises and I had just finished one with him that put a heaviness on my mood.  He walked across the room to me (which didn’t take him long since he’s so damn tall), gave me a quick squeeze, and said “shake it off.”  Blunt, no sugar coating, but said with love. And he’s absolutely right.  Do your job, but then shake it off.  You can’t marinate in emotional nonsense.  You go there, use it, then discard it.  Because it’s just a job.  It’s a fun job.  But a job, nonetheless.  I’m going to miss, John.  He has the best laugh. And I believe in his talent and abilities.  He’s one of those people I would recommend for a job without even auditioning him.  And if there’s anything I can do in the future to help him get where he wants to go, consider it done.

 

Lauren Young

Lo Lo.  Boo boo.  Pookie.  Our member of the black delegation (as she puts it).  Lauren is loyal.  I can trust her to follow through.  I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as organized as she.  I’ve been living in her apartment for a few weeks and it’s brilliant that everything is labeled, color coded, and clean.  If you need something, Lo has it.  Probably in triplicate.  As a person, I don’t think people realize how tender hearted she is.  She is generous, boisterous, and loves being part of the whole.  And she does a great booty pop.

 

Sarah MacGillivray

Kind.  Sarah is kind.  She will listen to anything you have to say without judgment or prejudice.  She is never afraid to give you a hug.  And she is beautifully quirky.  I don’t think she realizes just how good she is.  As a person and as an actor.  I loved teaching her ballet.  She’s come to class wearing her orange tutu that I bought her for her birthday and she’d flit around the room with childlike joy.  She reminds me of Phoebe from friends.  She’s one person that I wish I had spent more time with.  But I truly enjoyed being around her and am grateful for her humor and light. 

 

Flora Munro

Oh, Flora.  My little sister.  The ray of sunshine.  I’m not worried about this kid.  She has more natural talent in her baby finger than most people do in their entire body.  And she’s beautiful.  But more than that, she’s effing hilarious.  Her attention span may not always be the longest, but her intentions are always good.  I could sit next to her in a dressing room and just listen to her chat about reality tv stars and youtube videos with animals in them and before you know it, I’ve not had time to be nervous for a show.  Sometimes I take things too seriously, but with Flora, you just cant.  It’s like a mini vacation from myself.  I think she’s got a great career in front of her and I look forward to watching the telly one day and seeing her and be able to say, “I know her.” 

 

Joanna Greaney

Our very own black irish.  The girl’s got soul.  And more patience than a saint.  A bit of a gypsy, I think.  And an endless pool of understanding.  I worked with her very little but she always gave off warmth with a hint of scrappiness. I feel as though there are wells of untouched depth with her.  Just waiting to be tapped.   

 

Kristin Davis

When I think of Kristin, I think of kittens.  I dunno why.  She’s playful and sweet and soft spoken.  An avid runner and sweet tea lover.  She quietly observes and love scrap booking.  She’s a cheerful addition to any outing and is a born teacher.  I never got to work with her which is a shame.  Because I think she allows others the freedom to play and think for themselves which is invaluable to an actor. 

 

Angie Kay

Angie was a birthday fairy.  She made sure everyone had something special on their day which is wonderful when you are so far away from your own family.  She has a delightfully dirty sense of humor.  Right when you think you’ve said something that crosses the socially acceptable line, she’ll come in with a zinger that will top what you said and more.  She makes incredible peanut butter fudge swirl and is always up for a good bit of banter.  Her sense of direction is off as she fully admits that she doesn’t know her left from right.  She has a huge weakness for chocolate.  And this will be her second Masters.  Her first, being in medieval sex.  Yup.  She’s on in a million.  And she’d do anything for a friend. 

 

Levi Morger

Part man, Part boy. Charming and lovely.  Vulnerable and playful.  Generous and has no idea how truly special he is.  When I first met Levi I never believed he would become such a good friend.  He’s highly unpredictable, incredibly caring, and has a way of making you feel appreciated and beautiful just by looking at you.  Even on days when you feel like a hag.  Somewhere near the middle of third semester, I started noticing that when I needed calm, I’d plunk myself down next to Levi.  I would grab his hand or lean against his side like a golden retriever in need of a pat on the head.  And I realized, it was because he brought me comfort.  Just by being there.  He never tries to solve your problems or fix your life.  He never turns around and tells you his life story, comparing his life to yours.  And I don’t need him to.  There’s just something in a Levi-hug that says, “It’s going to be fine. Don’t sweat it.”  Which says a lot to me.  Levi has seen a lot of shit in his life.  He doesn’t walk around wounded, pointing out to everyone his battle scars and bad memories.  He walks around like…I don’t know.  Like Levi.  Like someone who is still finding out who he is, and where he’s going.  But without that frantic manic desperation that so many actors seem to radiate.  Levi saunters.  He has a lovely mix of depth and ease. To be honest, I don’t know many facts about him.  I’m still getting to know how he works and gauging his moods.  But I don’t need to know everything to know that I’d trust him as an actor any day.  He is unpredictable and a bit spontaneous, but when he gives, he gives everything.  Ego never gets in the way.  If a director says he made a choice that sucked, he never clams up or puffs up, instead he nods and says, “uh-huh.” And tries something else immediately.  He’s kinetic and impulsive.  And he pushes me out of my comfort zone which is exactly what I need.  I will miss his hugs, our tea dates, and watching him find his way.  He deserves buckets of happiness and success.  I hope he finds it.

 

Riley Madincea

Always a mystery, this one.  A very talented writer and improv artist.  I loved listening to his podcasts.  Looked forward to what he would say, what Denzel Washington clip he’d use, etc.  He has really great timing and I really hope his work gets picked up for television.  I always admired how he’d submit his work for projects and always have something going on the side.  When so many of us just tried to balance our RCS lives, he juggled three other things at the same time.  That drive is what will get him where he wants to go.  And wherever that is, it will certainly be entertaining.

 

Steven Wallace

You never know what is going to come out of this guy’s mouth.  He started out in stand-up comedy.  Enough said.  And I’ve never known anyone to have retained so much random facts.  He loves pub quizzes, probably because he does so well on them.  From history to media to whatever, he’ll probably know it.  We’ve had some good times, a picnic in the park, drinks at Molly’s, quiz at Campus.  He’s always been very good at including me in things and is unafraid to tell you where he stands.

 

Steven Grawrock

This guy cracks me up.  A born improv clown.  Rarely too serious.  And at the same time, he’s always supported me in any role I’ve had.  Grawrock is the guy who laughs big, and would not be adverse to slapstick comedy.  He has a talent that I will never have; the ability to do comedy where others laugh AT you.  It takes guts and a lack of self-consciousness.  And a great understanding of Play. 

 

Dmitry Ser

He’s a ninja.  An Russian-korean ninja.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen such focus and dedication.  Up at 4am, work out at 5am, commutes from Edinburgh, warms up some more, rehearses, rehearses, rehearses.  Then does the whole thing again the next day.  7 days a week.  In the rare times that he cuts himself a small break and settles down next to you, you can catch his quick humor and it takes you a bit off guard.  He is agile, committed, but has always treated me with the utmost respect.  Someday we’ll have to cash in that rain check we’ve had for sharing that bottle of wine. 

 

Kate Sketchley.

This girl started out as a quiet acquaintance, never making a ruckus and a bit timid.  She has become my best friend here.  My little sister.  My respected colleague.  And someone I could depend on.  She knows my moods and gives me a safe place to unleash whatever pent up emotion I may have.  Because she understands that it does not come from a place of viciousness but from vulnerability and/or pain.  She brings out the silly side that I rarely let out.  She is the sounding board that I trust will tell me when I am out of line or when I have gone overboard. And what’s more, if she tells me I have, then I listen.  She is one of the smartest and most accomplished people I’ve ever met and has an ornate goodness that comes from knowing how to love a friend.  She makes me kinder and keeps me honest.  Which are two attributes that I value above most things.  As an actor, I’ve never seen anyone improve the way she has.  She’s gone from zero to breaking the speedometer.  This is because she has sheer will that most people miss unless they look hard enough at her.  When she wants something, whether it be to break through a role or even just executing the perfect ballet chainee turn, she gets this look in her eye that says “Listen, mother f&*ker, I ain’ stoppin’ till I get this right.  So either help me or get out of my way.”  (Perhaps she’d never phrase it just like that.  She’s far classier than I am. But the sentiment is the same).  She also has this childlike sweetness, the sort that reminds me of when my nephew or niece was two years old or so and they would get so overwhelmed with joy and love for you that they’d hurl their arms around your neck and hug with everything they had.  Kate hugs with her heart and when she loves you, you know it.  She is a gift.  And I will miss having her in my daily life.  But I will be there for her if she ever needs me.  And I know she will do the same.  And I thank her for making me laugh so hard that it hurts, for allowing me to be the person I am and liking me for it, for her encouragement and respect.  You can do anything you want, Kate.  Anything.

 
There were 23 members of our cohort.  I have had good memories with each of them.

No one will truly understand the depth of this year but us because we have lived in each other’s pockets for so long.  We have created this microcosm, this bubble.  And I am more because they were here with me.  To those members of the cohort that have loved and supported me and I you, wherever I am, you have a home with me. 

 

Since drama school is not traditional and we don’t have actual yearbooks and therefore don’t have “senior superlatives” (i.e. most likely to succeed, best smile, etc), I thought I’d make one up for us.  So…

 

Here's the "most likely to be cast in a Shakespearean play as"

(if I were hiring my friends which I hope to be able to do someday)

 
Twelfth Night

Olivia- Ashleigh

Viola-Kate

Sir Toby Belch- Grawrock

Malvolio- Lance

Orsino- Levi

Mariah- Lo

Andrew Agurcheek- Nick

Feste- Michael-Alan

 

Romeo And Juliet


Juliet- Flora

Romeo-Dmitry

Mercutio- John

Tybalt- Riley

Benvolio- Keith

Nurse-Joanna

Lady Capulet- Maria

Capulet- Wallace

 

Titus Andronicus

Lavinia- Angie

 

The Tempest

Miranda- Sarah

 

Hamlet

Ophelia- Amber

 

*all stage directions to be read by one Phil Bartlett J

 

 

 

Thank you all for a great year.  Miss you.

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Cake and Karma



we all lose our minds a bit when huge changes happen. it's to be expected. so i've tried to make allowances for any extremes I or anyone else have had. Fear is normal. Excitement, too.  But mostly fear. Everyone is concerned for their own well being and future. Rightfully, so. But that makes very tense people who all need to talk. And when everyone needs to talk and wants to be taken care of, there is no one left to listen and do the caring. So insanity is expected. And that's fine.

I woke up tuesday morning, wondering why i felt like i was weighted or pinned down. I wondered why I was anxious and incredibly irritable. And I realised, oh. It's time to go. It finally clicked. If you can't stay, then go. And now, I'm just slightly annoyed that I can't get on with it. Let's start now. Let's audition. Let's hug my mother. Let's move.

Let's not waste time fawning over the things we'll miss. We will miss them regardless of whether we talk about them or not.

It's time to remember the other worlds back home. And look for new ones.

I'm turning 30 in a few days. Talk about your wake up call. I'm not wasting any more time dwelling on what I cannot change. I'd rather spend my time figuring out how to get what I want and making sure i deserve it.

I had a fairly short but extremely violent cry Tuesday afternoon and then I packed for my mini vacation to Ireland. It was a birthday gift I bought for myself months ago (back when I still had money). I had originally planned to stay in a hostel and then hopefully have an evening with my old friend Babs who lives in Dublin. The great thing about the Irish (well one of the many great things) is they are incredibly hospitable. Babs and her family wouldn't have it. They picked me up from the airport at a god awful early hour and I spent the next three days in their home where they fed me an immense amount of sweets and carted me around the city to all the places they love. It was exactly what I needed. They took excellent care of me and I was humbled by their generosity. Babs even bought me a claddagh ring for my birthday which I had been wanting since mine broke five years ago.

We drove around Killiney, saw the beautiful gardens at Powerscourt (and had cake), walked around Dublin's Temple Bar, River Liffey, had Teddy's 99s ice-cream as we sat on the sea wall, went to the National gallery, then stopped for cake, I took a tour of the Lord Mayor's Mansion, checked out the Georgian architecture, ...had cake...and an apple crumble tart, came back to Babs' and watched Downton Abbey with her family, had Bailey's and chocolate ice-cream, had a beer at O'houligans (sp?), and probably had more cake. I've lost count of how many sweets I've ingested. So worth it, though I'll be spending the next four days in the gym.

Babs also works at the National Concert Hall and got me a free ticket last night to the Symphony. Nothing like good quality Tchaikovsky and Schumann for free. It was SO nice.

It was a nice reminder of old friends and a new feeling of life without grad school. And I liked it. It's going to be ok.

I have five days left and I'm feeling much better about it all.

On the flight home I had extra euro coins. You can't exchange them back to a different currency so I looked around for something to buy. Then I saw this Irish boy with his grandmother. They looked so excited to be flying wherever they were going. So I walked up to them and asked if they'd like my leftover money. The little boy was so sweet, put on a huge grin and wished me safe travels. I thought, well, maybe I just bought me some good karma.

And boy did I.

On the train back from the airport I tried to buy a ticket (you apparently have to buy them whilst in transit) with my UK debit card. It was declined. What? I asked, well can I use my US credit card? He said, No. But I could buy the ticket once I get off the train. For those of you not UK familiar, you have to have a ticket in order to leave the train station platform. So unless I buy one, I'm stuck behind the gate. I said, ok.

The train pulls in, I go to the guys in the yellow jackets standing around with credit card machines. They try my card again. Declined. Sigh. I ask again, can I swipe my US credit card? The guy says, no. I look at him helplessly and scramble to put sentences together about where the nearest ATM is. He looks at me for a moment, takes out a key, unlocks the gate, and says, "Dunnae worry. The Americans have always been nice to us." And he let me through for free. ...I'm going to miss this place.

Finally, at long last, here are a couple of photos from "The Special" that I promised.  All rights reserved Royal Conservatoire of Scotland.  Enjoy!


 

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Like a Pig in a Puddle


I have once again found my footing.  Granted, it may be on a slippery surface.  But I am back on my feet. 

Since I last left you, I have managed to get a few things done including doing battle at the Laundromat and winning.  Barely.  LY and I hiked our clothes the four blocks or so looking like Santa Claus with our massive bags over our shoulders.  After taking a half an hour to realize that the machines take tokens and not actual money, and that no one works in the Laundromat and that you have to go to the convenience store three doors down in order to pay a small fortune, I now have clean and dry clothes.  Worth every damn pence.

KT was also a gem and brought me coffee while I waited for the dryers to fry my clothes.  Lifesaver, that one.

I also managed to have a chocolate date with KS and after unloading the past few days on her, we had some giggles and I calmed down immensely.  Another Lifesaver.

Last night and tonight were our final shows.  Ever.  Both went very well.  And tonight was the best we’d ever done.  Good energy, good pace, good delivery, and good fun.  Just how I’d hoped to end it.  Some really great moments.  Last night there was a nice connection between SM and I at the end that really clicked.  And tonight AL was so wonderfully generous that it made my job extremely easy.  There’s something wonderful about AL’s ability to immediately get to an intense emotion instantaneously.  Like a punch in the gut.  Boom.  She’s there. 

In the end, many of us were in tears again.  Although I’d like to say it was my acting prowess, I’m afraid it was mostly that feeling of “this is it” that seeped into the performance.  But hey, if it works, it works.  When in doubt…use it.

It feels good to have had this challenge.  It may not have been how I wished to be challenged but I’ve grown I think.  Looking back to the beginning of the year, I seriously doubt I would have been ok with being wrapped in cling film and been able to say the weird stuff I had to say.  I think my insecurities would have gotten in the way of any decent performance.  I know that I would never have been comfortable enough to trust my fellow actors and relax.  This is the first time that I felt like I really did my job.  It is not my favorite role, to be sure.  And I am happy that I’ll never have to shove those coloured contacts in my eyes again.  But I feel like I managed to do something that I can be proud of with people that I value.  And I am grateful. 

But that’s it.  That’s the end.  Our last performance.  I’ve already finished my papers and my tutorial is scheduled for Monday (which I am definitely not looking forward to) but that’s pretty much it.  I don’t really know how I feel about that right now.

I do know that I’m going to Ireland next Wednesday, that there’ll be one last brinner, and my birthday/going away get together.  So I’ll write once or twice more.  But…that’s it.  That. Is. It.  I keep saying it over and over to see if it will make any difference.  But it doesn’t. 

But instead of more crying nonsense, I think I’m going to try enjoying the next 11 days.  Rolling around in joy like a pig in a puddle.  And then we’ll just see where I end up.

 
Thinking of you   x

 

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Down For the Count


Yesterday.  It was one of those days.  You know, those days.  When just about anything will make you wish the world would swallow you up whole.  The little things are harder than they should be and everything is a ten step process.  It’s days like these that it feels like you are an human emotional punching bag. 

 
LADIEEEEEEEEEEEEES AND GENTLEMEEEEEEEEEEEN, in the right corner, weighing in at nunya bidness, all the way from fragile springs…you.

 
You enter the boxing ring, ready. Bouncing around like Evander Holyfield (who by the way is one of the only boxing champions I know and that can respect.  He has yet to come out with a mini grill to endorse and has avoided biting off anyone’s ear).  You start the day and you are like, yes.  Ok.  Let’s do this.  Light on your feet.  Float like a butterfly, sting like a…

And then,  IN THE OTHER CORNER, weighing in at Yomama,  all the way from kickass Takenamesville…Life. 

Life enters the ring, too.  And Life is a girnormous beast of a gorilla with muscles upon muscles and he’s angry.  And he’s gunning for you. 

Not much you can do with a day like that except pray you get through it without wetting yourself or covering your ears and bursting into tears.

You plod through the morning.  For some reason your motor skills are lacking today and you drop things, spill your coffee all over the counter, and your hair tie breaks at the gym so you have to run two miles with a lion’s mane hairdo swinging around sticking to your back.  *Life takes a small jab to your gut.  You’re stunned but not down.

You get ready for the travel to Edinburgh for your last tech rehearsal.  You know there will be very little time for you to get ready since they’ve only blocked in an hour, so you attempt to put in your coloured contacts and base coat of make-up.  The contacts don’t want to go in.  It takes you fifteen minutes.  Then you try to get dressed.  You go around the room to where all your clothes have been drying for the last three days because the dryer in the apartment doesn’t work.  They are still wet.  All of them.  And they smell of must and cigarette smoke from the walls.  *Swift right hook to the face.  You block the next two punches and side step away from the ropes.

You are running late now.  You jump on the subway.  They’ve raised the prices.  *Illegal bitch slap when ref isn’t looking.

At the theatre in Edinburgh they say they are running fifteen minutes behind.  No surprise.  It’s ok.  Gives you time to breathe.  Right?  *Round 1 over.  You go to your corner to take a break.

An hour passes. *You are wondering why Life is looking at you and laughing as the bell rings. 

You go to the dressing room and put on the rest of your make up.  It takes you a while.  You fix your hair and wonder if they are going to make you get wet for the run through.  They are supposed to do photos and video footage.  Something tells you to hold off on getting into the costume and cling film.  *You land a punch in Life’s left rib cage.

The director comes in…he doesn’t look happy.  He tells you to breathe.  He tells you the tech crew have fucked up again (my words not his) and have run too far behind so they won’t be teching our show at all today.  We’ve spent the money to come into Edinburgh for nothing.  I put on all that make up for nothing.  Battle with contacts for nothing.  And we may have to come in the next day, our day off, and do it all over again.  Which means you don’t have time to take your clothes to a laundry mat, which means you have to smell like a wet dog for another day.  *Back is against the ropes.

The director leaves to get final word. 

You start to shake a bit.  No biggy, Stacy Lynn.  You are just being uber sensitive because you’ve reached your patience limit, you are sad to be leaving, you are done with meaningless unprofessional bullshit, you are hurting over a personal situation, and the last time you slept through the night was a month ago.  That is all.  *Life’s coaches, “Self-loathing” and “Loneliness” give Life some tips. 

You wipe the make-up off your face, tears are streaming down your cheeks.  You put in your ear phones and sunglasses for the car ride home.  You can’t seem to stop your eyes from leaking.  You pray that the other four people in the car can’t tell you are whimpering.  The amount of pressure behind your eyes feels like your brain is going to explode.  All you want is clean clothes, warm bed, and for someone to take care of you for two seconds while you catch your breath.  *Upper cut to the jaw.  You are down for the count.

Get up.

The ref begins to count 10, 9, 8…

You do this to yourself, Stacy Lynn.  You want to go home.  You don’t know where that is.  You want to be left alone.  You don’t want to be alone.

7, 6, 5…

Don’t be a pussy.  Get up. 

No.  I’m tired.  And I’m bruised.  And I don’t want to move.

 

4, 3…

Really?  You are really going to give up even an inch of self respect because you are tired, your clothes smell, and you spilled your coffee?

It was more than that.

 

2, 1…

No.  It wasn’t.  It was a bad day.  Friday you are going to take your clothes to a laundry mat.  You are going to pay the money to get it done properly.  Money is just money.  But clean laundry gives peace of mind.  Today you are going to get ready 30 minutes earlier than you did yesterday so you won’t be late.  Then you are going to do your tech.  You will be professional and you will do your job without pouting and you will do it generously and well.  Then you will come back to the flat, continue packing, schedule a hair appointment, find forgiveness and understanding in your heart for others, and pick your whiny ass up off of the mat.  Now, get up.

 

Get.  Up.

 

 
Update:  This post was written at a Starbucks early this morning.  I got up two hours early in order to get internet stuff done on time.  I pushed send on this blog…six times.  The internet in the Starbucks blew up.  It blew up.  I got up for nothing.  I smell like wet dog and got up for nothing.  So I left to go to AK house early so I could use her internet before our drive to Edinburgh.  Tears are building again.  How is that possible?  It’s fine.  I put the blog on a memory stick, I open it on her MAC. …she doesn’t have Microsoft Word.  What?  I don’t understand.  I ask her what program she uses.  Something called pages.  I open Pages.  How do I cut and paste?  We are now running late.  HOW DO I FUCKING CUT AND PASTE??  It’s time to go.  I’ve gotten nothing done.  NOTHING DONE.  …I picked the wrong day to try to stop cussing.

*Life. TKO.