This is not one of my finer moments. But I assure you I am 100 % sober. And I have always promised to be honest when it came to this blog. So here it is.
I'm having a tough time. I wish I had the excuse that I was drunk. But for some reason, no matter how hard I tried to get inordinately pissed at the cast party tonight, nothing could shut out the thinking. So much thinking.
We finished Duchess of Malfi and Measure for Measure. Finally. And I feel as though I have a bad taste left in my mouth. At first I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. People felt an array of sadness or nostalgia. But I was numb all over. As if what was completed was as important as burnt toast.
And twenty four hours later, I keep waiting for release and relief. And all I can identify in terms of feelings is...I am disappointed. And, though I try so hard to deny it. I am angry. And what's more, I am ashamed to feel it. I came to this programme, to this school, to focus on classical acting. And the one main project that we do, the one time we focus completely on a classical piece, and it turns out to be one of the worst personal experiences I've ever had in theatre.
This is not to say that I did not have some good times with my cast. Or that I value my fellow actors less. Because they are what made the past few months bearable. And, despite a couple snafus, the show itself turned out to be very good and solid. Sure we had our second show slump (abismal, really) but then we turned it around and had three more really solid shows. And Measure was, in my eyes, always solid.
But speaking solely from a personal stand point...I know I should be able to find good things in all situations. I should accept and embrace. blah blah blah. But damnit. I'm struggling with it. And I don't know why.
I had a nightmare last night about all the things I did wrong in the run of Malfi. All the things I didn't say or could've said. I know very well that this doesn't help anyone. That there's nothing I can do about it now. But I am constantly haunted by how much shit I had to eat. By how badly I wanted to verbally pulverize some into the ground. And once again, I am ashamed that that impulse was there.
And it feeds into my relationships with people.
Do you ever feel like you just can't get anything right? Like whatever comes out of your mouth is just going to be rotten? I've said it before, I'm usually so careful with my words, but lately, I feel like I'm falling out of the "well spoken" tree and hitting every "tactless and feckless" branch on the way down. I'll think I've said something harmless. Or something clear. And then find out that I've completely torn a hole through someone. And by the time I've discovered my mistake, it's too late. And I feel like there's not enough duct tape in the world to suture it back together. And I'm sorry for it.
I feel helpless and careless. I feel tired and used. And I'm still angry.
I got an offer for a job today from NYC. A stage management job. Even a year later, people are still offering me jobs for SMing. Sometimes I wonder if it's a sign. Sometimes I wonder why the hell I keep pushing for something that brings so much annoyance, sleeplessness, and self doubt. Why do I keep pushing?
My last Duchess show, I felt like an overacting hack with a case of the stutters. I felt like an imposter. I felt like a fool. And I felt scared. Because I knew four months from now I'm going to be back in America. And I don't want to be. I'll admit it. I like my microcosm here. I like my safe little cocoon that I've spun. Where people think I'm something. Where I think I'm something.
And then I remember. I AM something. And I am just being a self indulgent little ass by whining about nothing or spilled milk or whatever analogy fits the situation. And that's enough. If I hurt someone, then I make it better. If I can't make it better, then I pray for forgiveness. From God and from the person I offended. If I am questioning whether or not I should be an actor, then I need to shape up or ship out. There's no room for "poor me's" and pity parties. I acknowledge that I've been through a lot these last few months. I acknowledge that I'm entitled to one good cry and maybe a tantrum or two. but that does not give me license to be an asshole. So. Get your shit together Stacy Lynn. Forgive yourself. And for God's sake, stop being so melancholic. You are better than this.
And to those I've offended, you know who you are, I am sorry. I will replace the foot from my mouth with words of love. Though I have an awful amount of pride, I will admit when I am wrong or have chosen the wrong approach. I have done so with you, "person-who-cats-hate". And I will make it up to you.
As for what's next. I can only imagine that it's all good things from here on out. I hope to write more of interesting and exciting experiences. It is the home stretch of my time here. On the Verge and then our New Playwrights' plays and tour. and then that's it. With the exception of little workshops here and there and the Edinburgh Fringe...that's it. How can that be it?
In other news, I got my haircut today and then right afterwards, a bird shat on my head. It was green. And smelly. I am told that that is good luck. My only question then would be when this luck will start kicking in. And, if said luck is a myth, where the effing aerial bomber of a pigeon is so I can kick it's feathery green poo-ing disease ridden ass. stupid flying-rats...
I'll give 'em till July. If the luck doesn't kick in by then, there'll be another animal on the extinction list.
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