Hour

I was supposed to work tonight in class but we didn't get to me because the other exercises got really very deep and took a lot of time. I'm not complaining. They were interesting to watch. Still a lot of not-following-impulses or not showing emotions or not calling partners out on their emotions, but there was also some breakthrough type stuff happening and people going places I had never seen them go before, so that was great.

The teacher talked about ego tonight. He thinks we all need to have the biggest egos in the world. We need to be able to take them off when we get on stage so that we can take everything personally, but we have to think the world of ourselves in order to be able to survive (emotionally) the things we put ourselves through. We have to hit the absolute lowest lows a person can hit, but still have that one little glimmer of hope that makes us fight for what we want even though we have nothing. And if we get the job, we have to do that every night for two months of rehearsals plus six weeks of shows, if not longer. We have to have huge egos to be able to survive that.

I don't have a huge ego. I think we all know this by now. I have a bit of an ego. I know I'm a good cook. I know I've written some good songs. I know I'm a good actor. But I'm also the first one to say that there is always something more I can learn. At one point, the teacher asked one of the women in exercise what her strengths as a performer are. That's a good question for all of us, and one I've thought about in the past few days. I think my greatest strength as a performer is also my greatest weakness - my versatility. I have played so many characters - men, women, a four-year-old boy, old people, young people, creepy people, weak people, strong people, strange people, loud confident people, mousey people, and my latest creation - the creepy-Stepford-wife=octopus-like hooker. I love that I have played so many different types. It has allowed me to explore all kinds of different parts of my being, and I think I've done really well in all of these different roles. But I think it's also a bit of a weakness because it makes me difficult to cast. When I was with my old theater company, it was easy to cast shows from the company. There was the loud, silly guy. The loud, crass girl. The romantic leads. The funny straight man. And then there was me. I don't think they knew where to put me most of the time, so they would cast everything else first and then just fill me into the blank spaces wherever they could. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but as an actor, it can be a bad thing to not have a type - if people can't categorize you, it can make it hard for them to cast you, or to know what roles to submit you for. If there were more Johnny Depp style roles for women, I could be that type. But let's face it, there aren't. Willy Wonka is a man. Edward Scissorhands has a human female counterpart, and if someone were to build a robot woman, you've all of a sudden got a porn film on your hands, not a touching story about misfits who find each other and are then torn asunder.

But anyway. I think I need to take a minute to list what I think my strengths are as a performer, in the hopes that maybe, one day, I'll have the kind of ego my teacher thinks we should all have.

I am versatile.
I am adaptable.
I am flexible.
I am very good at reading my partners and reacting to them.
I create interesting characters.
I am good with improv.
I move well.
I think I give my partners a lot to work off of (though I would need someone else to corroborate this. A couple of people in my class have remarked that I'm a lot of fun to work with because there's a lot going on, though, so I think this is a safe one to say. See? I don't even have enough of an ego to say "I give my partners a lot to work with" and stick with it).
I can sing (especially Bobby McGee).
I can dance.
I am reliable.
I work really hard.
I am passionate about this.

On paper, I look like a pretty good actor, huh? New Year's Resolution #2 for me - learn how to believe that I am a great actor. Time to grow an ego, darling. Time to grow an ego.

High Class

I really don't have much to say about class last night. Some of the work done was really amazing. Some of it required a lot of coaching as the actors struggled with their own mental blocks.

I got to work in the last exercise of the night, which was done really fast because we didn't have much time left. I was the neighbor, so I only had about a minute to come up with a story and a purpose, so I drew on the first thing that came to mind - I had been watching "Secret Diary of a Call Girl" the other night. I cast myself in the exercise as a woman who had come to New York a year ago to be an actor, had little success, and kind of fell into a career as a call girl instead. And in the exercise, I was trying to get my scene partner to come work for my agency so that I could start climbing the ladder within my business. Seedy, huh? The teacher described me as a creppy Stepford wife type person, and she described the way I moved at one point as octopus-like. Not at all what I was going for, but okay. I was creepy and manipulative and I sold the hell out of it, so that's good. The only question that the teacher had for me was about my vulnerability, which (in retrospect) I think existed in two places - that this is my career now instead of acting, and that if I don't get her to come with me, I lose my status within the agency. The teacher then instantly went back to my partner who missed both of those moments that I had (though the teacher only saw the first one), and told her she should have jumped on them. Which then makes me ask, how can I show my vulnerability honestly and truthfully if my partner doesn't notice it? Granted, I don't know that I had enough invested in either vulnerable point to really push them, but if the teacher saw it, it must have been there. I could go into my own headspace, I guess, and wallow in the number of auditions I failed at, but truthfully, the motivation to get at her was stronger than the motivation to have my own personal pity party. And since she didn't call me out on my failures, it was easy to skim over them and move on. Which I think is the eternal question that surrounds this kind of work - how do I get to where I need to go if my partner doesn't push me there? In work that is so dependent upon the other person, if they're not giving it to you, how do you get it? Do you have to push them harder to notice? Do you just push yourself? Is it a matter of you not giving them enough to give you enough to get where you need to be? It's kind of a mind-fuck, huh?

My partner got stuck in her head. A lot of people last night got stuck in their heads. I probably do sometimes, too, but we all need to remember (because we've been told a million times) that when you feel yourself getting stuck, FOCUS ON YOUR PARTNER AND MAKE AN OBSERVATION. What do you see? What is your partner doing? How do you feel about your partner? If the best you can come up with in a moment when you are stuck is "You're smiling at me," then say, "You're smiling at me" and go into repetition. You get back to emotional life when you get out of your own head.

I wonder if people keep retreating to their heads and keep not taking risks because they are afraid of what the rest of the class will think of them if they go there. There was a woman who came in one day with the exercise of writing her suicide note and she was uncomfortable talking about it before class, and kind of felt the need to let us all know that she was not, in fact, suicidal. I wonder if people are afraid that we'll all think they are these characters that we create when we go into exercise and that is what is stopping them from making the choice to take the job as a call girl or a drug dealer. But the thing is this - this is theater. This is imaginary. The activity is real and the emotions are real, but everything else surrounding it is completely imaginary. COMPLETELY IMAGINARY. Yes, I played a call girl last night. No, I am not a call girl. Yes, I played woman a few weeks ago who set her baby's crib on fire because she wanted the kid to stop crying. I would NEVER in a million years set a kid's crib on fire. That would never even appear in my brain as an option for how to get a baby to stop crying. But there are people out there who would think that way. And for the purposes of this class, I think it is good to push ourselves into uncomfortable places. Go ahead and cast yourself as the scum of the earth. Go ahead and make the choice that you would never in a million years make and see what happens! There was a beautiful moment in one exercise last night where one woman was a nanny and her neighbor came in and tried to get her to be a drug dealer instead and in the middle of the exercise, very quietly, she agreed to do it. He was startled by her decision and said, "Really?" and she completely backtracked and started freaking out. It was marvelous! It was true. It was like she really wanted to say yes and wanted to know what it felt like to say yes so she did, but then her logical brain kicked back in and she knew she really couldn't do it. You couldn't have scripted it better. It was brilliant. And that is how this is supposed to work. She wasn't really agreeing to be a drug dealer, and he wasn't really a drug dealer. They were actors in a scene exploring what it might be like to be presented with that opportunity.

I'm explaining it all wrong. Suffice it to say, our class is safe space. Take chances. Take risks. Agree to do the things you would never do in your regular life, just to see what would happen. And the other people in class will not walk out thinking, "Gee, I wonder if he is really a sexual psychopath." They will walk out thinking, "That was brilliant and fun to watch and engaging and he was really brave to go there."

I want to be brave enough to go there.

Sad

My exercise was too close to me today. 90% of my backstory was completely true. Which means when she came in and told me I was making an ass out of myself, she was telling me I was making an ass out of myself. And I had to wonder if I really am.

The teacher thought I needed more prep or deeper stakes or something - I was completely invested and I don't know that I could have prepped more. It is possible that it didn't all show - he didn't ask questions that covered all of the bases I had thought of. But I should have been able to show those things and I didn't. He thought that what I had put together was good in a couple of respects, weak in a couple of others. And my partner told me afterward that I am fun to work with. I enjoyed working with her quite a bit, too, even though in the moment-to-moment work of the scene, she was driving me crazy and making me feel like shit.

And I brought home the feelings of shit. I know I shouldn't, but I did and just a moment ago, I got almost unspeakably sad and I'm not exactly sure why. Failure in class can be a good thing because you can learn from it. And there was one guy today who made up his own sort of homework assignment, completely missing the boat regarding what these activities are supposed to be, so at least mine wasn't as bad as his. And some of my classmates are still talking about an exercise I did earlier in the week, so I must be doing something right somewhere. But today my exercise was about me and I was told that I sucked and it hurt. So right now, I hurt. Because part of me thinks it's true. Trust me - I had a mirror in my exercise today and I didn't necessarily like the dancing the girl looking back at me was doing.

And I thought about the holidays a lot today because they're coming up but we're not really doing much for them in my family this year (everyone is scaling back), so I really don't have much to do holiday-wise this year which is nice because it's not stressful, but it is kind of sad to not be doing much for the holidays. And I'm sorry and I'm afraid to say anything about the holidays at all because I'm likely to offend someone I didn't intend to offend, so I think I'll just have to say that I'll enjoy them again when I have my own family and am able to create my own traditions. Until then...I need to find my motivation.

I dunno. I'm sorry. I know my exercise couldn't have been that bad, but I'm just really sad right now. Which says I should probably go to sleep. Good night.

My Plan

My plan was to come home from class, do some laundry, work out, go to bed and get ready to work tomorrow.

That was my plan.

That's not going to happen.

My brain is not functioning on a plane that will let me really talk about what just happened in class, but just know this - it was good. It was damn good. I ripped up my throat. I have some mystery red mark on the back of my left hand. But most importantly, I affected my partner, I was effected by my partner, and I lived truthfully moment to moment. The teacher commented that I did very well trying all sorts of different tactics to get what I wanted. I kept yelling at myself in my head that I was being conversational instead of repetitive, but I don't think that was really an issue. The teacher stopped us right after there was a weird shift in the scene from hard to soft that neither of us really knew what to do with, and she told me I should have jumped on the soft impulse sooner. I was having problems identifying that it was okay to be soft (if that makes any sense) and then my partner said something first that was not soft and the teacher called her out on going back to tired old places that we'd already been. But in general...I can't even describe it. We were both there. We were both connected. We both wanted something really really really badly. We both observed and were observed. The class was laughing and afraid and excited. That was a fucking good exercise. I feel fucking great about it. And I've learned that I swear like a sailor when I get passionate about something. There was a moment when my partner was right up in my face and I had an impulse to kiss her which would have been totally hysterical and completely out of the blue so I didn't follow it, but it was there. Next time, I should. And like the teacher said, I didn't get soft very quickly (which may be a good thing for guys, but it's not what I'm going for in acting class). It bothers me that this teacher keeps seeing me be hard and mean and strong. I know I've been soft and weak and vulnerable at other times; I just don't know that she has seen it. I almost feel like I need to set up an exercise that will make me be soft, but I'm not sure how to do that. I don't know what the other person would come in with.

My whole body is alive right now. I don't know if you know what that feels like or if it even makes sense, but it is like every nerve is firing all at the same time. I'm over-stimulated and completely exhausted at the same time. My scene partner and I had to hug each other a couple of times after our exercise and I think we could have very easily collapsed into each other and fallen asleep.

And so I came home to my cat. Who is so beautiful it breaks my heart. And he has no idea why I need to hold him for a minute longer than usual. Or why I'm completely scattered as I make a giant bowl of popcorn that I'm eating in fits and spurts. And I love him so much I want to cry right now. That is my truth, right now, in this moment. I want to cry because my cat is so beautiful. Sweet jebus, I'm a crackpot.

The other exercises tonight were interesting. More engaging than some previous ones have been. They made me realize how much time we spend not saying the things we want to say or need to say. Both of the teachers in this class have encouraged us to just say it or just go there or to allow yourself to be ugly or vulnerable or scared or whatever. One of them told us to run towards the confrontations. He was also quick to tell us that this is perhaps not the best advice to follow in real life. But a couple of weeks ago, when I went to see the Swell Season, Glen Hansard told a beautiful, heartbreaking story about a woman who lost her son in the Twin Towers and he dedicated "Say It To Me Now" to her and I sobbed while he played. He played with no amplification, standing on the front edge of the stage as if his life depended on it. And he said it. He encouraged us all to say it. Just say it. And in a strange way, it makes me sad that my classmates can't make themselves just say it in the completely safe, completely imaginary world created in our classroom. If you're not going to say it there, where will you ever say it?

So here are some of my "just say its" in no particular order:

I'm annoyed with you.
I'm flattered that you would ask, but I'm really not interested.
I still have a crush on you (though it's not as strong as it was) and probably will until you get married. Which, for a second, I almost thought you were going to and I think my heart stopped.
If I could ask just one thing of you, it would be for you to be nice to me for one full day. And be nice in my general direction for one full day. No negative commentary, no snide comments, just be nice to me. Because I am a person and I do deserve that.
You know how to make me feel dumb and I don't like that, so I'm removing myself from the situation. Which hurts because you also know how to make me radiant.
I appreciate the effort, but that's not really what I'm talking about.
I love you and don't know what I would do without you. You hurt my feelings a couple weeks ago.
I really just want to be near you.
I miss you.
That's not my problem.
There are things that can be done to change it.

I wonder if my tendency to lean on the hard feelings in class has anything to do with all of the crap going on in my regular life. And if even just one of the annoying things shifted to be less annoying, if I would start to lean more towards soft feelings. I wonder.

One Step Ahead

I didn't work in class on Saturday - the cards just didn't fall that way. Which was fine because I was wearing really uncomfortable shoes so I don't know how well I would have done anyway. But one thing did occur to me about my classmates: we all sit there and watch everyone else's exercises. We know what kinds of questions the teacher is going to ask in regard to our preparation. Why don't we ask ourselves those same questions when putting our activities together before class so that we are prepared?

I try to. I know the teacher is going to set me up to want something from my partner, so as I think about each exercise and what I'll be doing, I try to think of what I could possibly want from another person. That might change when I find out which of my classmates I'll be working with, but it's good to have an option, or to have at least considered it. A couple of my classmates have created situations full of despair, but when asked why they are so desperate, they can't come up with specifics. Why not? Pull something out of your ass if you have to. You want to kill yourself because your husband just died and you can't bear to be without him. Which means you could also want love and affection and attention from someone else (i.e. your scene partner), and the thought of that could make you feel really guilty and if you get it...see? That's a scene. As opposed to, "I want to die because I'm messed up and I don't really want anything." That's boring to watch. It's boring to hear about. And it's really funny to me that some of my classmates are having so much trouble with this because the one instructor has told us probably five times now to take risks, to use our imaginations, and to just friggin' try things. I don't think this is the kind of setting wherein either teacher is going to tell us it's too far out there to think that if my sister makes it over before the place is clean, she's going to smack the shit out of me, and then drag me to the airport kicking and screaming, burning down my apartment on the way out. That would light a fire under your ass to clean the place up, wouldn't it? Nice, high stakes. Nice, imaginary situation. But what it will produce is nice, real reactions and emotions. And if you look at the really good movies or plays you've seen, there is almost always some element of the fantastic or extraordinary involved. If this wasn't an atypical day, nobody would have written a play about it. Even "Seinfeld," the show about nothing, managed to elevate the urgency of nothing to epic proportions - Jerry stealing the last loaf of marble rye from a little old lady on the street, the fight with the Soup Nazi, Kramer in general. All of these situations start out normal - he needs bread to take to a party, they're trying to buy lunch - but they get pushed into the ridiculous because for some reason, it is WAY more important that this happen today than any other day and if it doesn't happen today, somebody is going to die. That level of urgency, that level of desperation is what makes something engaging to watch. That level of urgency is what is going to push you as an actor to your emotional extremes. So why not, when you're preparing for an exercise in class, build in that element of urgency and push it past the boundaries of normalcy to the level of lunacy that somebody would actually want to watch? What's stopping you? Especially in class where it is safe to experiment and play and be ridiculous.

For example, in my first exercise, if I didn't fix those pants, we were going to lose our house and my sister was going to disown me. In my second exercise, if I didn't finish my taxes, my boyfriend was going to dump me and kick me out of our apartment, leaving me penniless, jobless, and homeless. In real life, it is entirely possible that either of those outcomes would not happen. I could probably plead with my boyfriend for another week or so in the apartment until I could find my own place and get on my feet. But in the exercise, I think it is important to believe that it won't go that way. If, for no other reason, because I become more engaging and interesting to watch when I have that kind of pressure on me.

I remember when I took Meisner in college, the teacher boiled it all down to six actions that you could play (though you could combine them as necessary, i.e. celebrate someone in order to seduce them), and what your character wants. Everybody wants something. As actors, we have to figure out what it is our character wants, and then make that the absolute most important thing in the world. In my next exercise, I want to go on tour, and if I don't, I'll curl up in a ditch and die. Should be fun, I think.

Please, Sir, May I Have Some More?

I had another good exercise in class last night. I think I got a good balance of paying attention to my activity and my partner at the same time. I got really angry and I got really despondent. The teacher didn't have much for me in the way of comments, though. She didn't like the environment I created, but other than that, she said it was "pretty decent." I'm not sure what to do with that. Other than make sure the next environment I create is a little more indicative of where my set-up puts me.

A lot of my classmates seem to be having problems with the introduction of imaginary circumstances into things. My thought is to just make something up. If you don't know why you would do something, make something up. Which may or may not be the right approach. For example, one of my classmates didn't really have any feelings one way or the other about the woman whose "apartment" he supposedly just visited and then was going back to, and he therefore had problems figuring out why he would say to her, "I'll be back in five minutes" and why would he come back in five minutes. From my point of view, the thing is this: he returned to the apartment in five minutes. That is a given. It is up to him as an actor to figure out why, whatever that reason is. Maybe he just set a fire in the apartment down the hall and is coming to get her out. Maybe he wants to help with her activity and needed to go find supplies. Maybe the heat is out in his place and he wants to be somewhere warm. Whatever. The truth of the situation is that he went back to her apartment. As actors, we are given those truths all of the time - they are called "scripts." We have to figure out what will motivate us as people to actually do those things. It can be directly related to the other person on stage or it can not be, as long as it gets you there. Because once you are there, who knows what is going to happen? Maybe you show up wanting to evacuate, but end up falling in love and you both burn together in a beautiful Romeo and Juliet type tableaux. You just need to make up a reason to be there. The rest of it will happen how it happens.

Or I could be totally wrong. I have been pulling stuff out of my butt to fill in the spaces in my activities - I've given myself imaginary children and diseases and boyfriends and jobs and all kinds of things - in an attempt to up the stakes in my exercises and I am apparently just doing "pretty decent" work. I don't know what that means. I don't know if that is good or bad. I don't know how to improve on "pretty decent," unless you tell me why those specific words were chosen to describe my work as opposed to, say, "great" or "stinky."

I like that I can leave this class feeling good about myself. I wish I could help my classmates who seem to be struggling so much with it. And I think I need to find a mirror for my next activity, for which I am totally going to trick out the space.

...and Then Some

I had a good exercise tonight. I felt kind of unprepared and I guess in a way it showed, but in another way, I had a good exercise. There was one specific detail in my back story that I hadn't quite figured out and I think that is what ended up doing me in. But I wasn't really done in. The preparation work I did was good. I just could have done more. And I could have let more of it show. I think I sort of skimmed over the "how does it make you feel" question and focused a lot on the urgency of the situation. But I think I had a good balance of getting my activity done and staying engaged with my partner. I was identifying things in her, I think perhaps even more than she was identifying things in me. I probably could have tried harder to get her to leave me alone so I could finish, but that didn't feel right. And like the teacher said, I needed to let more of my back story show. In my story, I royally fucked up. Big time. But the class didn't see that because I didn't show that. Or I didn't show it enough. I didn't feel enough shame. I was confounded and confused and disappointed in myself, but I wasn't completely, utterly ashamed of what I had done. And I needed to get there before the exercise started. I also could have prepped my props better, and myself. Which I'll know for next time. I'm already building the story for my next one and I think it is also going to be good.

The exercises that happened before mine were interesting. A lot of my classmates are confused by these new exercises. I almost feel weird saying I'm not. I think I get it now that the first class was about getting us in tune with ourselves so we know what our impulses are and we get comfortable exploring the uncomfortable places in a public(ish) setting. Now we are adding in more and more elements of the Theatre with a Capital T, but still trying to hold onto the following impulses bit. As in, my impulse as Kitty, with all of Kitty's life experiences, might be to laugh when someone calls me beautiful. Whereas if I put in the imaginary circumstances that I am not me and I just tried to sleep with my sister's potential boss so that he would give her the job, I might get angry and hurt and start crying if someone calls me beautiful because I'm feeling dirty and shameful and want to hide from the world. It is still a truthful impulse, just fueled by different circumstances. These exercises are designed to give us different fuel because as actors, we will never be ourselves on stage. I had an improv teacher tell me once that given the choice, always play a character in improv exercises because they are much more interesting than you are. The combination of these two classes is helping us get to a place where we can infuse as much emotional life and truth into a character that is the absolute opposite of ourselves as we have as regular everyday people.

I got a lot of positive commentary from the teacher today. And the criticisms were constructive ones and I think she enjoyed giving them. There is a part of me that thinks she chose me to work tonight because she likes to see me work and/or thinks I have potential. There were a couple of rough exercises and when she asked if I was prepared to work tonight, I think she did so thinking that mine could be a good, energizing exercise. Like after you have a mediocre dance with someone, you seek out one of your favorite partners to have a really good dance. There was part of me that felt like I was the really good dance tonight and that felt amazing. By no means did I nail it. But I did good work and got good comments that I can use to make my next exercise even stronger.

Well Done

I had two good exercises today.

We were supposed to bring in an object from home and build completely imaginary circumstances around it - what it is, where we got it, why we keep it, etc. And one by one, we went up with our object, said a little bit about it, and then someone came in to fall into the repetition exercise from the first class, but using the fuel of this object through the scene. My first exercise was with one guy who I really enjoy working with and it made me really happy that as soon as our bit of stock dialogue was over, we both just kind of looked at each other and fell into a hug from across the room. I don't know if that killed his object preparation or what, but he was happy that I was there and I was happy to be there. It got a little frustrating because he was still trying to be about the object and I wanted to be able to ask him what was wrong instead of saying, "You're hurt," but that would lead into script and dialogue and character and we're not there yet. But it felt like a pretty good exercise. If nothing else, I was soft when I needed to be soft and when he needed me to be soft and that's a good thing. I don't think the teacher said anything to me after that exercise.

My second exercise was about me and my object. It started out like this:

Teacher: What is is?
Me: Rocky Raccoon.
Teacher: Where did you get it?
Me: They gave it to me at the hospital when my daughter was born.
Teacher: How long have you had it?
Me: 1034 days.
Teacher: Why do you keep it?
Me: Because when I get her back, it's how she'll know I'm her mom.
Teacher: How does it make you feel?
Me: (crying already) Really sad and guilty.

And then the scene started. Now, with only that to go on, the woman who came in did what any human being with a heart would do - she tried to comfort me. We went through crying and screaming and laughing and love and release and in general, I think it was a good exercise. At the end of it, the teacher told her she should have tried to yank the raccoon out of my hands - I wouldn't let go of it - because we don't need to be nice to each other on stage. She had tried gently to take it from me. I wonder if she knew my whole back story if she would have ripped it out of my hands. I wonder if she knew my whole back story if she would have tried to comfort me. See, in my story, after I gave birth to my daughter, I suffered from pretty severe postpartum depression. A "friend" of mine introduced narcotics into my world to try to make me feel better which, of course, they didn't. And one night in January (January 23, 2007) when my daughter was about 9 weeks old, it was really cold in my place (because I hadn't paid the gas bill since before she was born) and she wouldn't stop crying because she was really cold and I just wanted her to stop crying so I set fire to her crib to try to keep her warm. Our neighbors called the fire department - I was treated for smoke inhalation and they determined from my psyche evaluation that I should be institutionalized until I was no longer a danger to myself or my child. I didn't get to see her in the hospital. I honestly don't know if she survived - the doctors won't tell me where she is. So I keep this raccoon that they gave me at the hospital when she was born so I can give it to her when I am well again and allowed to see her. Because all I want in the world is to know that she is okay.

Pretty good imaginary circumstances, huh? Nice and specific, but VERY far removed from my reality. But it made it really hard to accept it when my scene partner was comforting me because I wasn't sure I deserved to be treated nicely. Which may be why I held onto my circumstances (and the raccoon) as long as I did. I did eventually put it down and took her hand instead. I did find myself reminding myself to pay attention to her reactions to my reactions, too, and there were a couple of times when I think I did that really well. I found myself shying away from saying very complimentary things to her like, "You are an angel" or "You are beautiful" because after watching her in class for nine weeks now, I know she tends to shut down when you say nice things to her and I didn't want her to shut down. I wanted both of us to stay involved so instead I said, "I love you." Because I did. She was wonderful to me and by the end of our exercise, I was letting her be. So that felt great. When the teacher asked me how I felt about it, though, it took a minute to put it into words. I didn't want to say, "That was amazing!" because that would be boastful and I didn't want to be boastful - I wanted to encourage commentary so I can learn. I said I wasn't sure if I focused on my circumstances too much or if I should have focused on my partner more or if I struck a balance between the two. He said he thought I hit a decent balance, but that in general, between and object and a person, you're always going to get more out it if you focus on the person. That makes sense.

What was also really nice was that as soon as the exercise was over, all of those feelings were gone. The guilt over setting my imaginary daughter on fire. The pain of having my child taken away from me. The feeling of failure in knowing that I was following in the imaginary footsteps of my imaginary mother who wasn't there for me either. All of it. Poof! Gone. I was back to regular old Kitty, childless, fire-less, and with a wonderful loving mother, able to look at the exercise from an outside perspective with a semi-critical eye. I didn't get bogged down in thinking I'm a horrible person for being able to imagine doing those things. It was an exercise for a class. Nobody was harmed in the process. If anything, we gained valuable experience as actors for it. Which brings me back to the previous classes and how they made me feel like shit. In those classes, I was following my impulses as me. In this exercise, I was following my impulses as this character I created. And then I was able to turn her off and get rid of her. That is a really really really really really really good and valuable thing, too.

No class next week for the holidays. I'm glad to have gone out on a positive, you know? If I had to stew for two weeks about a bad exercise...ouch. Instead, I get to feel that little glimmer of confidence in my abilities as a performer. I dig that.

A Bit More

I want to write a bit more about my exercise from last night because I'm in that sort of a mood and it's what I do. I think about things too much.

We were supposed to choose and object on the stage and create completely imaginary circumstances surrounding it - what is this object, where did we get it, how long have we had it, why do we keep it, that sort of thing. I chose a mug. It was the first thing I bought for myself when I moved into my first apartment. I bought it because I didn't have a lot of money, but I wanted to feel grown up and independent and I thought if I had grown up mugs, it would validate me.

In the course of my exercise, the teacher asked a lot of questions about this mug and about how I was feeling. I felt silly and embarrassed because it was a mug that validated by worth as a human being, but I didn't say that bit. I said I felt silly and nervous because of my connection to the mug and my vulnerability surrounding it. But I didn't push it that extra step to actually show my classmates what that mug meant to me. And in that moment, the mug was the only thing keeping me standing. I almost cried several times, but I didn't let myself. Afterward, the teacher pointed out a couple of places where I could have made more vulnerable choices and I took that as my "what I need to learn for next time" thing.

What struck me after class (or during, while other people were doing their exercises) was that I chose an item that isolated me and reminded me of my isolation, which is something that I'm dealing with in my current life. This wasn't my friend's mug or my mom's mug or an heirloom mug passed down to me by my great grandmother, this was my mug that I bought for myself for my first apartment where I lived by myself. Nobody ever used the other mugs in the set because nobody ever came over. Those, for me, are very real circumstances. And it bothers me that my first impulse didn't include another human being, real or imaginary. It was a solitary impulse. Because I'm feeling solitary. But even in that feeling solitary, I didn't let my classmates know that it bothers me. I didn't trust them enough in class to break down and show the weight of my solitude. I still had to be strong, which is why I felt silly.

So what I think I need to work on, in class specifically (but maybe in life, too) is connecting with other people, not just with objects. If this object belonged to someone else, then I have that person's feelings to take into account, too. If this object means something to them and I broke it...imagine what sort of doors that would open up. And I need to work on not always being strong and keeping it together. I need to let everything fall apart, even for a moment, even just on stage.

I can do it. I know I can. Gotta bring my A-game and just let it happen. For the sake of my worth as an actor, I have to let myself be a total mess for just one moment.

That's kind of exciting.

There It Is

There it is. That feeling that I suck and am a terrible person. Yay! Class has started again.

We're starting to bring in more imaginary circumstances and I think I need to let my imagination fly more. I know I'm a creative person, but my "imaginary circumstances" were kind of dull and kind of close to me. I need to make riskier choices and get farther away from myself, which seems almost contradictory to everything from last class. But acting is living truthfully under imaginary circumstances. Last class was about living truthfully. This one may be about imaginary circumstances. Gotta roll with the punches and be ready for anything.

Hooray for sucking!

Session Two

Tonight is the first class in the next session of classes and I am so nervous my stomach hurts. Every time I think about walking into that class tonight, my heart rate jumps through the roof and I find myself short of breath. I'm not sure why. Most of the people in the class are people I know and have worked with for eight weeks already. There are a couple of new faces (I think, based on the email that went out reminding us that we have class today), but I shouldn't be this scared of starting a new class.

I think it is because I have no idea what to expect. I'm guessing we'll continue with some repetition stuff and add onto it and build from there throughout the next eight weeks, but I don't know for sure. I'm afraid of what I'm going to do in this class. Not in a "I might hurt someone or myself or be asked to do horribly immoral things" kind of a way. In more of a "what deep dark secrets of my soul are going to be revealed on stage now" kind of a way. And in the general introverted sense of "I'm going to have to go interact with people and be energetic and enthusiastic and whatnot" kind of a way. But even without all of that, not knowing what to expect can be a very scary thing.

I know I'll do fine. I know I can handle whatever they throw at me. And I'm looking forward to seeing my friends again and working with them more. I just hope I can convince my GI tract of that before class starts.

Your Misfortune

When your faith in life is gone, come and speak to me
When you're down and all messed up, seek my sympathy

When everybody says no, no, no
Well it's your misfortune and none of my own
Wrong wrong wrong
Well it’s your misfortune that sweetens my song

I can be the friend you want
I can be your confidante
I can be the right reminder at the right time
Throwing out the lifeline

Stand in the light, stand in the light, stand in the light
Stand in the light, stand in the light, stand in the light

When your face is caked with mud, come and speak to me
When the chill creeps in your blood, seek my sympathy

When everybody says no, no, no
Well it's your misfortune and none of my own
Wrong wrong wrong
Well it’s your misfortune that sweetens my song

I can be the air you drink
Every single thought you think
I can be the right notion in the meantime
Warm you like the sunshine

Stand in the light, stand in the light, stand in the light
Stand in the light, stand in the light, stand in the light

It's a Mike Doughty song and when I saw him play it in concert a couple of weeks ago, it made me cry. Since the first time I heard it, I have sort of fantasized about having someone say those things to me. Finding my confidante. Which is maybe an unfair thing of me to say because I have wonderful friends and a wonderful family and they will always be there for me if I need something. But I was reminded again in class today that I am alone and hard and proud and strong and that none of those are really good things and I need to cry now and as much as my family and best friends might want to be there for me for that, this isn't something they can fix. Which, again, sounds horrible of me. My family loves me because that is what families do. I need some sort of indication from the outside world, from society in general, that I'm not a total freak show mess who is beyond hope. I need someone to recognize that I should be standing in the light instead of cowering in the dark. I need someone to accept me.

I was really hard in my exercise today. I was angry and just wanted him out of there and it never occurred to me that if I sat down and cried, he might leave. Walking away felt like it would have been me disengaging (which is boring in the exercise) or dismissing him and I was in no place to dismiss him (emotionally). The teacher did call him out on not being vulnerable in the scene, and maybe if he had been, I would have been able to more readily go to the place of defeat, but either way, it never occurred to me to walk away.

I feel like I am strong because I have to be. And I feel like I've had to be strong for such a long time that I'm not sure I know how to be anything else. And I'm afraid that that has alienated me.

Last night, I again found myself wanting a boyfriend/life partner type person. And I know that every time I express that desire, people tell me to just hang in there. Thank you. I do appreciate the support and I appreciate the fact that technically, I am not alone because I have my friends and I have my family. But I have a question. What is the longest period of time (not counting birth to your first date) that you have been single? Really single. No prospects, no fuck buddies, no ex who's still messing with your head by calling you up to hang out. What is the longest period of time that you have been without that intimate physical and emotional bond with someone?

I went on my first date when I was fourteen - I asked a classmate to the Turnabout dance. The following year, he asked me to Homecoming and I then asked him again to Turnabout. I think at one point, we went on a double date for Valentine's Day, but the other woman in the couple was rather uncomfortable and I think she and I spent more time chatting with each other and giggling than paying attention to the boys. Since that time, I have dated men for 1-3 months about every 18-24 months. I did have a little "thing on the side" for about a year, though I don't know what it was on the side of since neither of us was really dating anyone else and when he started seeing someone, we stopped. But that's it. That is my dating history. If you average that all together (let's say 2 months out of every 21 from the age of 14 to 32 (18 years is 216 months, divided by 21 is about 10 times 2 is about 20 and a half months plus the one year weirdness thing) I have "dated" for about 32 and a half months of my life. In the past eighteen years, I have been single for over fifteen of them. Fifteen. Not fifteen consecutive years, mind you, but when the bits of time are only broken up by 1-3 months, well, let's just say I spend a lot of friggin' time being single. I spend a lot of time wanting men from afar who I can't have or I don't know how to talk to or who I have told that I want them but they don't want me. I spend time fantasizing about movie stars and musicians (bald and Irish, though not necessarily both in the same guy, though sometimes yes) who would write songs like "Your Misfortune" for me and sing them to me and just hold me when I'm angry or scared or upset or broken. And the reality of the situation is, I come home to my cat and write blogs about it and try to make myself strong again so that I can go hang out with my friends and not be consumed by the fear that I am completely abnormal because I have spent 92% of my life NOT in a relationship with someone.

And this has just shown all of you how sad and afraid and desperate I really am. Why can't I do this in class?

I needed a hug after class. I needed someone to hold me and maybe even let me cry. And I know that if I asked someone, they would have hugged me. But I don't know how to ask for that. So I got in my car, listened to "Your Misfortune" the whole way home, came home to my cat and sat down to blog about it. So I can get past it and make myself strong enough to go out and have fun on Halloween.

Happy Halloween, everybody.

Exhaustion

So I needed to work more in class.
Done.
So I needed to work with the woman I've not worked with at all yet.
Done.
So I needed to settle something with another woman.
Done.
So I needed to fall in love.
Um...

I worked a lot today and I'm proud of that. And a couple of times, I fell totally flat on my face and even that was fantastic. I think part of what was holding me back from working was the fear that I would suck. And a couple of times when I went up today, I sucked. And the teacher still gave me feedback, still encouraged me. She didn't give up on me. She's there to help and that is amazing.

There are several things going on in my life right now that are teaching me that it is okay to ask for help, even if it is for seemingly selfish reasons. What does anyone else gain by me becoming a better performer? Unless they come see me perform, nothing. But I want to get better and this teacher, this class, my fellow students, are all helping me. Do you have any idea what a relief it is to know that I don't have to do every single fucking thing by myself?

I got angry a lot today. I was nervous and shaky and did a lot of yelling. It felt great. There is a woman in class who I haven't worked with very much, but I worked with her today and after our exercise, the class took a break, but we just hugged. For about two full minutes. Her hair smelled like fruit. And I think we both just needed that. We were so angry and hateful with each other on stage and I think in the discussion after the exercise, we realized that our anger and hatred really came from caring about one another deeply and we were able to manifest that in this wonderful, powerful hug.

I also worked with the woman I've not worked with at all yet, twice. I jumped in on her in the warm ups, and I called her up into exercise with me and it was great. I think she had some break-through moments, too, in dealing with her own darkness. I saw it and I called her out on it and she loved it.

And during the break, a man who I like to work with very much showed up, and when he got up to do an exercise, he called me up. I love it that he loves to work with me. And as part of the exercise, I was supposed to confess to a horrible thing I have done to him (fictional) and then we start the scene, both of us with this knowledge. I told him I punched his mom and broke her nose (which I have never done as I have never met his mom, nor have I ever punched someone in the face). And we had this beautiful exercise. The words "I love you" were used. I know I need to fall in love at some point in class, though I think I started the scene in love, I didn't fall during the exercise, if that makes any sense. The teacher said it looked like we were a married couple who had been together for a long time. It was wonderful to care that deeply, and to know that even though I punched his mom, he would eventually forgive me. I don't know if it was what the teacher had in mind when she told me I need to fall in love (or she'd like to see me fall in love), but there was a lot of love in that exercise, amidst all of the anger and hurt.

And I wonder about me and love. I have so many people in my life who I have known and loved forever. I have so many people in my life who would probably end up forgiving me if I punched their moms. We have a comfort with each other, and a deep, deep caring for one another. We have an old love. A true, deep, comfortable, old love. Like my friend who sent me a text message during class (that I got afterward) asking if I had plans for tonight. I just spent two and a half hours screaming at people and pretending I had slept with boyfriends and punched people and wanting to get beaten up because Lord knows I deserved it, and my friend wanted to know if I wanted to hang out. This class makes you explore the deepest, darkest, scariest corners of your own existence, and I still have people in my life who love me. Even with all of those deep, dark, scary corners. Maybe because of them. I got that text message and I laugh/cried in my car for about ten minutes, wishing that I could have that kind of release in exercise, too. And I wonder if when I said before that I don't know if I've been in love, if I might have to revise that statement. It's interesting to me that I didn't fall in love on stage - there was no giggly, tingly, early stages of falling in love part - I just started out in love. When I ventured into the loving part of my being, it was this old, all-encompassing, comfortable, accepting love. And maybe that's what me in love looks like. I don't do the giddy girly crap. I dive right in to accepting someone exactly as they are.

Maybe.

So all in all, a great class. A great class. I worked a lot. I loved. I hated. I yelled. I laughed. I fell flat on my face, and I just kept on going.

And now I'm really tired. And looking forward to the next class to see what is going to happen next.

Love

I need to fall in love.

We had evaluations tonight. I don't know how well I evaluated myself, but the teachers said I'm doing okay. I've had some strong classes lately and I am definitely ready for the next class. Very good news for me, and I'm really excited to be able to take the next class and work on the next step. But in the three classes that remain, I need to work more (which I knew - I've been sitting there watching a lot and on Saturday, I pushed myself to work more and that was a good thing. I just need to continue on that path) and I need to fall in love. I need to explore the softer feelings.

Which, of course, I thought about the entire way home. It's true not only in class, but in my real life, too, which is why it's such a scary proposition. I thought about my dating/crush history and I'm not sure I know what me in love looks like. I loved a drug addict for many years (who told me ten years later that he is gay) who spent about five or six years playing with me, teasing me, not giving me what I wanted or needed but getting pissy when I tried to get it from someone else. I felt like I was in love, but that was not a healthy love, nor a reciprocated one. I currently have a ginormous crush on a man who lives a bajillion miles away and who is not romantically interested in me, but I compare every man I meet to this guy and get bored if they don't measure up. The most recent guy I dated who I thought I might fall in love with didn't even have the guts to dump me when he found another woman. He waited for me to dump him in a text message and I found out that the woman he left me for was someone I knew and it was a totally lateral move. She's a great woman, but so am I. I've dated men before who have told me that they loved me, and I think I've said it back a time or two, but I think those feelings were more "I care about you and what happens to you" kind of feelings as opposed to "I want to build a life with you" kind of feelings. I loved them like I love the rest of my friends or my family; not in a lose-control-can't-stand-to-be-without-them way. I don't know that I've ever felt that, especially not in any sort of healthy setting. I don't know if I've truly been in love, so I don't know what that would look like on stage. I don't know how to get there.

I think I know what classmate I could try to go there with, even though in the grand scheme of things it would be completely inappropriate. This classmate was actually a character in a rather inappropriate dream I had while napping this afternoon. I think I kept chocolate in my kitchen junk drawer in this particular dream, too. Anyway. I wonder if I hold myself back from going there in class because so many of my classmates are in relationships and I feel really weird foisting myself on someone in exercise in class who is in a relationship. That's a boundary I'm not comfortable with. But it might be necessary for my growth as an actor. And that statement makes me sound like a horrible person. Of course, there is always the possibility that I'll make a move and get rejected, which could also be beautiful.

In either case, I need to figure out a way to go there. I need to fall in love. Both in exercise and in real life. Hopefully with different people in each setting.

Resignation

I am a handful.
I scare people.
I am too intense for a lot of people.
I am atypical.
I am far from perfect.

But in all truth, I'm getting pretty good at this and I love that. It terrifies me on a regular basis and leaves me feeling like shit, but I love it.

Because I Have To

I've been putting off writing about Wednesday night's class because I know exactly what I need to say and exactly what I need to do and it scares the crap out of me. I have that knot in my stomach that could mean I need to visit the ladies' room, or I could vomit at any second. Which means it is time to write about Wednesday night's class.

It wasn't anything particularly special. I jumped in on the tag part of the night a bit more than I have in the past, which is good. I wanted to get more involved, and I took a baby step towards that. And I was called into a scene, and I called someone into the scene. When I called someone into the scene, it wasn't very good. Neither one of us was really invested. We weren't emotionally involved - neither of us was effecting the other, nor allowing the other to affect us. We just kind of were and it was bland. I don't know that it wasn't truthful, but there were no stakes. So it was bland. When I was called into the scene, I think the guy called me up hoping I would help him get to a breakthrough moment or something. And some of the stuff I called him out on might have helped to get there if he didn't get to heady about it. Which means I probably could have been more effective in my word choice in working with him.

But because of other things that happened in class that I'm not going to get into because it's not necessary, I left class the other night really really really wanting to say all of the things that I really want to say to a bunch of different people. And because of that, I have been avoiding writing this entry.

This class is therapy. But it's not supposed to be therapy. And for as much as I have railed on Heath Ledger for not being able to let it go once he was off the set, I find myself transferring things from class to my everyday life. I find myself attracted to someone while in exercise, and I leave the stage thinking about the men I am (or have been) attracted to and what I could say to them or what I should have said to them. I want to tell the one guy that I have had a crush on him ever since he walked in, sat down, and ordered himself a sandwich and a beer. There is something inherently sexy about a man who will go out alone and have a meal. And since that time, I have discovered that he is an intelligent, talented, funny man and just a good person. He is kind and thoughtful and open. Except when it comes to me, it feels like. He has missed just about every important event in my life since I met him, and I'm not just saying he wasn't physically there. He has never said happy birthday, he made no comment about the birth of my niece or the break up of my band or my falling out with my theater company or my fainting spell or any of it. And that feels like crap. But I can't really fault him because I've never told him that I have this huge crush (I've gotten close, but I've not actually said it and I have been told many times that men are just kind of dense so you can't be subtle with them and expect them to get the hint. You have to actually say what you're actually thinking or feeling) and he's just going about the everyday business of living very far away from me and we're not all that close so my life doesn't really register on his radar. There is more important stuff going on than what's going on with me and I understand that. And I wonder, if he knew, if he would pay a little more attention. Probably not. But I wonder. And I wonder if me saying something would make things weird, and I wonder if me saying anything would make me feel better or make me feel worse. I kind of think if I said something, I would then at least know one way or the other and if he's not interested, I could get over it. But I already know in my heart of hearts that he isn't and I'm still not over it, so maybe saying something would only serve to make him uncomfortable which is not really what I'm going for. Though if we were in exercise, making him uncomfortable would be great because it meant I affected him.

So to the man I've had a crush on forever, I have a crush on you. A bigger one that I would care to admit to. I know that it is completely impractical, but it's still there and it just kind of makes me wish that we were able to take a more active role in one another's lives. Because I think you're wonderful. I wish I knew you better.

And now, even without seeing/hearing/feeling his reaction, I just feel dumb, so I'm going to stop now.

Next?

I had two good exercises today. The teacher said I was just "on." Yay! I followed my impulses. I showed emotional range. I did things that made no sense. And the bitch in me wants to ask, "So what's next?"

I don't mean to say I have mastered this. I haven't. I"ll probably have a couple of terrible exercises next week and all will be right with the world again. But I want feedback! I found my challenge and I want it to keep going. Keep pushing me. Make it harder, up the stakes.

It made me really happy that the guy I worked with last week ("the bully") called me up to work with him. REALLY happy. In my opinion, he's one of the best in the class, so the fact that I pushed his buttons and he liked it and wanted to work with me again...that's a good feeling. And we had another great exercise. I cried. I laughed. We kissed. I jumped. It was...I so wish real life could be like that. Where it's okay for your emotions to go all over the place, and it is equally okay for the people around you to have no idea what to do with that. I have one relationship in my life where we started it out saying that it's all okay. Anything we have to say to each other is okay and whatever reaction the other person has is okay, we just kind of have to promise not to give up on each other. And truth be told, I don't think we want to give up on each other. And it is one of the most valuable relationships I have ever had. The only problem being it's kind of a long distance thing, so we can't just pop out to get a beer together, you know? Else than that...it is so freeing to know that even when you are at your worst, someone will be there. She may disagree with you, but she's not going anywhere. She's just offering a different perspective. And when you're at your best, she's there to celebrate with you. That's what this class is. Your scene partner is in there with you for better or worse and everything that happens up there is good. Unless you disregard your impulses or physically injure them.

I love this class. I love the people in it. I love the instructors (even though they still kind of scare the crap out of me.) And I love doing this. I love it. So what's next? Bring it!

Tee hee.

Retrospect

You know what it was? I was bullying the bully, when, if anything, I wanted to be bullied. I don't like being a bully. I hadn't intended to be a bully, it just kind of came out that way. And I think he had gotten to this comfortable place wherein being the bully is what he does, and when he encountered someone who could maybe bully back...that's disconcerting.

I know I'm thinking about this way too much. And I know that he doesn't expect an apology from me - it was moment-to-moment classroom work and in general, it was a great exercise. He probably went home thinking about it a lot, too - he's that kind of person. But I feel bad about it. I don't like being a bully. If I find myself in that situation again, I need to let my partner know that I don't like being a bully. See if they can see it, and then see where the exercise goes from there.

Masochism

I had a great exercise tonight, and I'm still beating myself up about it.

I went up once in the warm-up game of tag and it was meh. I found myself wishing I would go up more, but honestly enjoying watching my classmates work so I didn't. If anything, I think I need to work on being more assertive in my classroom participation. And by break time, I was so nervous I thought I might vomit. Which, of course, means I had to force myself to go up in the second half of class.

The second half of class was not tag - one person would go up and choose who they wanted to come up with them. The point being, you're supposed to pick someone who you think will affect you and who will be effected by you. So I chose the guy who calls everyone out on their shit. I have not worked with him yet, but he was going to jump in and call me out on my shit when I almost had my release in the last class. And he was on a roll tonight, breaking just about everyone he worked with. So I called him up in the hopes he would push my buttons, call me out, not pull any punches. And he started out reading me okay, but as soon as I started reading him, he got really uncomfortable and the rest of the exercise was the two of us butting heads. Me trying to show him it was okay to...whatever, and him being afraid to...whatever. I'm not talking sexual impulses here. I don't know if he had any; I know I didn't. I saw that he was afraid, but he wouldn't explore that with me. I saw him hold back his angry impulses in the name of not physically injuring me - he swallowed them instead and then called me names. And by the end of the exercise, he was so off-balance, he said, "You don't know me," and I had to come back with, "You won't let me know you." At which point the teacher stopped us because we were too cerebral. I think we had gotten to the point where it was a draw. He wasn't going to budge and I was out of ideas on how to make him and he wasn't paying attention to how his closed-off-edness was affecting me and I didn't know how to show him that. So in that respect, I'm glad the teacher stopped us. I think we were done. Though I can't help but wonder if I would have started crying if he had let us go a few seconds longer. I was exasperated and tired and worn down and, let's face it, sad. I could feel that the tears were there. And I was disappointed that he didn't push my buttons like I wanted him to. One observation calling him out on his shit and the rest of the exercise was all about him.

On the one hand, it was a great exercise. We were both truthful and observant and we hit our impulses. And I kept up with him, which is something I'm kind of proud of. I affected him, which I'm also kind of proud of - that's my job. But I don't know how to feel about what happened or didn't happen in the moment on stage so I come home and I'm beating myself up for...missing opportunities to be understanding instead of belligerent, or for being too cerebral. I'm sure I could have made some of my observations simpler, and therefore, more effective. One of the biggest reactions I got from him - I said he was avoiding me and he repeated it like I was crazy and making things up, but I said it because he couldn't look at me, so I screamed, "You're avoiding me, you're staring at the floor!" And he was a little bit deflated as he repeated, "I'm staring at the floor." Simple observation. Concrete. Indisputable evidence to back up my previous assertion. And he knew I had him and that bothered the shit out of him. And I probably could have gotten tender there, but I didn't. He called me out on being angry (which I was), but he thought I was nuts for being angry and I called him on that and the exercise just kept going as two people yelling at each other and hating each other and not trusting each other and being wary of one another and calling each other names and trying to protect themselves because I think secretly, we both wanted to be able to let our guards down, but we were afraid of what would happen if we did. And I'm kicking myself for not calling him out on his fear and trying to show him that it was perfectly fine to be afraid.

I think about this shit too much. Which may be why I don't go up there more - I spend too much time analyzing it afterward. When really all I need to walk away with is, "I had a great exercise tonight. I affected my partner and was effected by my partner. I should work on keeping my observations simple." Instead, I'm wondering if my classmates are going to start to see me the way they see him. And I'm not sure if I want that.

Next Step

Well, we got the kiss out of the way and it was wonderful and beautiful and exactly what I needed, but in a way I wasn't sure I needed it and then, of course, I fucked it up. I need to learn how to release effectively. I need to learn how to cry.

I'm not sure exactly how fair it is to try to judge my exercise in class today. In a lot of ways, I had an amazing class simply because I went and I participated. See, I fainted last night. No idea why. But it's really unsettling, to the point where I'm not sure if my head is still in an "I might pass out again" place or a really disappointed in myself and confused and sad place. I count on myself for everything. EVERYTHING. All the time. No matter how many times I've been let down by other people in my life, no matter the scale of the disappointment, I've always been able to count on me. So what does that leave me with when suddenly, I can't trust my own body anymore? It's frightening. And I know it was an isolated incident, but I'm not sure what caused it so I'm not sure how to prevent it from happening again. And I know I'm being overly dramatic, but see how you feel when one second you're taking out your contact lenses and the next, you wake up lying on the floor and you have no idea how you got there or how long you've been there, but the objects around you sure make it look like it wasn't a very pleasant trip down. It's unsettling. So today, I am unsettled. And I was unsettled in class. The minute I got there, I knew I wanted to leave. I kept getting the chills and I have that sinus-type pressure in my temples and I wondered if I would be able to sit there in class for two and a half hours without bolting to the ladies' room to vomit. But I stayed. And I observed. And finally, I got up to get into exercise. And the women I was working with just weren't getting it. They weren't getting me. And then this guy came up and he saw what was going on. And he was there for me. Completely there. And it manifested in a nervous crying laughter and culminated in a very sweet, very tender kiss that was (I think) more sexual for him than it was for me, and then he was offended that it wasn't more sexual and I still needed to cry but I was worried that he was now disappointed so I didn't go there. I had three chances to go there and I couldn't quite get there.

I need to get past the self-consciousness. I need to stop protecting my scene partner's feelings. And I need to ask the question, is it okay when an exercise focuses primarily on me? He was reading me and he was there for me, and I wanted to let him be, but I also wanted to read him and be there for him, which probably stopped me from having the release he and I were both looking for. I think I just answered by own question.

In any case, I left early because I don't trust my own body right now. I need to make peace there. And I feel much better now that I'm home and I don't have to leave here until 7am Monday morning if I don't want to. I like that kind of freedom.

Ow

I don't know how to start this other than to say I'm fucked up.

I had a good class tonight and I had a horrible class tonight. It was good in that I followed my impulses and I got angry and I was hurt and I pissed people off. I affected and was effected, which is the goal in these exercises (right after living truthfully). I missed an impulse to kiss my partner - the thing about kissing is that once you do it once, you want to do it again, and not necessarily in the same exercise, but it's one of those things where if you don't kiss anyone for a very long time and then you get a chance to kiss someone, you remember how much fun kissing is and how nice it can be and you really start to miss it and you start to wish you had someone to kiss regularly and if you don't, well, then you just get sad - but this time the exercise didn't die in that moment. We kept it alive. I think because he wanted to kiss me, too, but didn't because he didn't think I wanted to so he got frustrated with me and with himself and we were able to connect on that. So in that respect, it was a great exercise. The teacher let us go a long time and we ran the gamut of emotions until we kept getting into this pattern of closeness followed by self-doubt followed by frustration based in miscommunications and so on and so forth. It was a great exercise. I felt really good about it when I sat down.

But then I didn't get back up again. Part of me was pissed that a woman I worked with earlier had grabbed my scarf and choked me and when I got angry with her for that, another guy jumped in and called me irrational. Irrational. For being angry that someone choked me with my own scarf. But this other woman then came in and she got it. She saw that I was hurt and my hurt was manifesting as anger. She said, "Misunderstood," and I think a little part of me fell in love with her. And I wanted to write about everything, I wanted to pour it all out so that maybe I could be understood somewhere because I'm not in class, so I sat for the rest of the class. I could say I was tired and cold and my tummy was feeling a bit ooky, but I knew that my impulses were telling me to keep my ass in my seat.

And the whole way home...my head just hurts. I don't know how to get people to understand me. And then my first impulse is why should that bother me so much? I'm tough. I'm strong. I'm independent. But as much as I fancy myself Superwoman, I had to admit to myself in my car on my way home that I need someone to understand me. I need someone in class to realize that when it looks like I'm picking a fight, I'm trying to engage. I'm trying to call you out on your shit, and I need someone to call me out on mine. Yes, I am strong. I made myself strong because I was repeatedly hurt as an adolescent. It wasn't abuse any worse than what your typical teen has to deal with, but every single thing I did was wrong - I dressed wrong, I showed my emotions wrong, I chose the wrong life path, I befriended the wrong people, I just in general behaved wrong. I was criticized everywhere I went. I was probably praised, too, but I remember the criticisms more. That's just how I work. I can't build on the positives - yes, I'm smart and funny and pretty, but its hard to be more smart or more funny or more pretty. You venture into "trying too hard" territory. But you tell me where I'm fucking up and I can work on that. Tell me I need to open up more. Tell me I'm not following my impulses. Tell me I'm a bitch. Those are things I have control over. But tell me enough of that and I build up a thick skin. It's a survival thing.

I've been saying for years that I'm looking for a challenge and I feel it. I feel that it's right here and it's going to happen any second, but it hasn't happened yet. Someone is going to call me on my shit and I'm going to lose it and have a break through and be completely vulnerable and that will be that. It will be my catharsis. It will be what will keep me sane for the next year.

And I hate having to admit that I need someone. And I'm afraid of how people will react to that. I just told you all that I'm broken and scared. You know what? I am broken and scared. Who isn't? But I don't need somebody to fix me. You can't "fix" a rape victim, or someone who was beaten as a child - that's not what recovery is about for those people. It is about acknowledgment and acceptance. I am broken and scared and I just need someone to sit with me for a minute while I am broken and scared and just let me be broken and scared. There is nothing wrong with being broken and scared. Those things don't need to go away. I think it is wonderful that I am broken and scared and that I can admit those things and I'd really like someone to see those things and just say, "Okay." I don't want to talk about why I'm broken and scared. That's not important - I know why and how to deal with it. But a refusal to see me as broken and scared means I'm something else. It means I'm the strong one or the intimidating one or the smart one or the one with a ribbon in her hair or the quiet one or the confrontational one or the girl with the annoying/wonderful laugh. I don't want to be any of those things. I want to be a person. I want to be acknowledged as a person and accepted as a person, flaws and all. I don't want the flaws to go away; I want them to be celebrated.

So I come home, hating that I have admitted to myself that I need something from someone. I come home not knowing how to get that. I come home wanting to be able to go there in exercise with someone in my class, but not knowing yet who I can trust with that, even though I know in my heart I can trust all of them with it and they will love me that much more if I show all of that. I come home frustrated and tired and hurty and broken and annoyed with myself and satisfied and irritated with my own contentment with being okay. I come home in desperate need of a hug and a good cry. And I come home with the knowledge that I will be fantastic tomorrow because of everything I learned while sitting on my ass in class today.

Emotional Depth

I have never once in my life playfully tackled a friend sitting on the couch next to me. The two or three times in my life when I have had a "boyfriend," I always felt stupid resting my head on his shoulder. And yet, both of those things have happened in class. I tackled this woman tonight. Playfully and nobody got hurt - it was a sweet moment. And later on, I hugged her. Kind of forcefully. I kind of pulled her to me instead of going to her. No, it was not a sexual thing. She was uncomfortable and I was going to comfort her come hell or high water. So I pulled her in for a hug. And then I got so angry with her for not letting me be there. I was literally screaming in her face - yet another something I (almost) never do.

And I liked it.

I like being free to make squawking noises and guffawing when someone deflects or says something stupid. I like being free to wave my arms in the air. I like being free to let a piece of string piss me off. I like being free to say what I see and to feel what I feel and to be allowed to take things personally. It makes me live truthfully. And in my normal, everyday life, I don't get to do that. Almost never.

I look at my niece, who is the most beautiful little girl in the world and I envy her. When she is happy, she smiles. When she is not, she doesn't. When she wants to suck on her arm, she sucks on her arm. It is beautiful and impulsive and even if she had language, I don't think she could explain why she does the things she does. She just does them. We all do those things as babies, and it is because of those things that we find babies so fascinating. But at some point, we learn to not pay attention to our impulses. It becomes inappropriate to stretch in public. We all learn to put on these poker faces that say, "Everything is fine and I'm not at all offended by the fact that you're mocking my entire lifestyle because you're my superior and I'm supposed to just let you." And I know why we learn those things and I know why we behave the way we do, but sometimes, it just really pisses me off that we have to.

In my first exercise tonight, I missed an impulse. I didn't act on an impulse. I felt it - I wanted to move towards my partner at one point, but I didn't. And the exercise died because of it and the teacher called me out on it (as he should have). The last time I saw the guy I have a crush on, I hugged him goodbye and I wanted to give him a kiss on the cheek, but I didn't. And the exercise died. I tried to get it back after the fact, but the exercise died. What would have happened if I had followed that impulse, just like what would have happened if I had moved towards my partner in the exercise tonight? Emotional life! Sure, either one of them may have rejected me, but it would be emotional life. It would be true and honest and I wouldn't come home feeling like crap even though the instructor said that in general, both of my exercises tonight were full of excellent work and I showed a lot of genuine emotional range. I mostly just want to cry now. And even though I'm sitting in my apartment in the dark with my cat, it feels somehow inappropriate to cry. Though I have absolutely no idea why.

This class is intense and wonderful and frightening and I wish more people could experience this and I wish I could let some of this bleed into my normal life. I kind of like being the person with impulses to go towards other people. I like being the person with emotional range. I like being physically active. I like connecting.

Maybe that's why I want to cry. I have to go back to my regularly scheduled life tomorrow.

Maybe

So I haven't written anything about Saturday's class yet because I've been unsure about what to say.

In general, I like the class. In general, I like the people. I just have absolutely no idea how I am doing in the class. On Saturday, my first exercise was deemed good. In my second exercise, I think we had a bit of a break through on the topic of my vulnerability - I need people to like me. In my third exercise, I dunno. I felt like crap. I feel like crap a lot in class (which most people tell me is a good thing), but I also don't know that that crappy feeling is ever addressed. My partners get hurt and angry, but if I express negative emotions, I feel like they get angry and frustrated right back at me. I don't know. Maybe I need to learn to sit in the negative emotions a little better. Maybe I need to stop trying to fix things. Maybe I need to let my partners be upset when they need to be upset. Maybe I need to take down my walls and let myself show that I'm hurt when I'm hurt instead of getting defensive.

On the other hand, I seem to be really good at helping my classmates have good exercises. I'm not sure what that means, but there are several of them who have been having problems with one thing or another, but when they get up there with me, they do really well. Maybe I'm calling them out on their crap really well. Maybe I am being communicative and expressive. Maybe I'm just really easy to work with, or maybe they trust that it's safe to go there with me.

It is starting to show a little bit that some people are progressing faster than others. You start to see some of the same comments show up in exercises a day or two apart, with different people. I hope I'm one of the ones that is progressing. I think maybe what I need to do is make sure I get in on an exercise with one of the other people who is, too, and see what happens.

Blah

Well, I think we're all in the same boat together, which is nice. I talked to some of my classmates last night and we all feel like we're doing awful. If nothing else, we can all take comfort in a level playing field, yes?

I didn't feel like working a lot last night, which is fine, though I ended up going up twice. I started and exercise and I followed someone in on her exercise. The first one was interesting - I was working with a woman I haven't quite been able to figure out yet. I don't know if the exercise helped me see her better or made her more mysterious. Though it did serve to illustrate a point that the teacher was wanting to make, so in that respect, I think it was good. And it was a rather physical exercise - lots of movement. The second one, I think I screwed up from the get-go because I went to enter the scene at the same time as someone else which broke my focus from the woman already up there, and changed her truth, but I proceeded with what my original observation had been. I should have observed her anew when I entered. And that one was just...odd. I dunno. The teacher didn't say much to me in that one.

One thing I am noticing though, is that often times, what I'm feeling is not what is being read by my partners or the instructor. Which makes me wonder what I'm hiding and how I'm hiding it. They do see something in me, though it's not always what I'm feeling - they see playfulness in my move for power, or they see fear in my frustration. I can see how they would see those things - they are more textual than subtextual if that makes any sense. I think I would like to open up enough that they can see the subtext in addition to the text. Might help them get a better reaction out of me. Up the stakes, so to speak.

I dunno. Like most things, I just have to keep plugging away at it. One day, it will all click and be amazing.

Yes and No

I had one good exercise today, out of the four I went up for. I was a smidge behind on my impulses, but in general, it was deemed lovely. I had one exercise where I lost all emotional life. I had one exercise where both of us just kind of stopped. And I had one exercise where...I dunno. I just didn't do well.

On the positive side, I jumped up to work a bunch, without necessarily waiting for someone else to go first. I worked with both men and women. And I worked where I started things and where I joined someone already on stage. I helped one woman in class get to (in the teacher's words) the most honest place she's been so far, so I think that's good. I got better at following my impulses. I kicked a phone which was not good, but I knew it wasn't going to go far enough to hurt anyone.

But I dunno. I don't feel good about the work I'm doing in class. Maybe I'm trying too hard to connect with people or have different exercises each time or hit all of these weird mini-goals I set for myself (like working with both men and women, being the instigator and the instigatee, etc). I probably need to just relax and be. That's what this is all about. I need to get rid of my own agendas and just do the exercise and see what happens. And/or I could always talk to the instructor and see what she thinks of what I'm doing. Find out if I'm a lost cause. Find out if she thinks I need to work on the same things I think I need to work on, or if I'm missing the boat completely and need to head in another direction.

I don't think I'm the only one who is struggling in class. Though somehow, it's cute when the one girl won't (or can't) admit that she wants to climb into the guy's lap, but it's frustrating when I'm not having any impulses, if that makes any sense. Like I should be doing better. Maybe I'm just being too hard on myself.

And now I have about a half an hour to prep for an audition tonight. I'm using a new piece and I'm not sure how it's going to go over. I don't know that I have prepped it as much as I probably should, but my older monologues are so dusty; I really don't want to pull that crap out again. Besides, if it scares the crap out of me, I'm probably doing the right thing, right?

Kind of Sad

I had signed up to take the physical theater movement workshop again this term, but the class didn't fill, so it was canceled. This makes me sad for many reasons.

I was looking forward to some intense physical activity one night a week (something other than running in place in my apartment).

I need to work on following my physical impulses, and this class over the summer really helped me do that. I wanted to be able to continue this work.

I think it is a nice complement to go from a physical Meisner class to a verbal Meisner class. Yes, both classes hit on both (a little), but I think the two work well together. You learn how the physical inspires the verbal and how the verbal inspires they physical. As actors, we need to use every tool available to us, and these both need to be developed and focused on and utilized.

But I think it mostly makes me sad because of the potential commentary on the state of actors in this city. We're all too lazy to take a physical movement class. Everyone wants to be an actor, but nobody wants to develop their physical skills. What gives? Isn't half the fun of acting the play of it? Running around and behaving like children? I guess this is why we see so many half-movements on stage (i.e. people who lean into their scene partner and yell as opposed to moving towards their partner and getting in their face, or people whose arms are glued to their bodies, or people who only act with their hands and voices) - nobody took the time to develop their full body physical impulses. That makes me sad.

And the selfish reason - if nobody else signed up for the class, I don't get to develop my physical impulses either. Drat.

What I Wanted to Do...

When I got up there, I was going to be in the space and adjust the chair, and maybe notice the flower. And I was going to be open and receptive and let them see me just being and I wasn't going to force anything and I was going to follow my impulses and I was going to be nervous and giggly and brilliant and sad and I was maybe even going to cry.

When I got up there, I fixated on the bear. Almost instantly. I tried to connect with the bear. I felt sad for the bear. I tried to reattach his leg. I got tired of him and felt half an impulse to do something else, but the impulse left so quickly that I missed it completely so I did nothing but return my focus to the bear. Exactly what I didn't want to do. Exactly what I shouldn't have done.

I feel like I did not do well in class tonight. I didn't jump up instantly, like my first impulse told me to -- I waited until a bunch of other people took their turns. And I fell into a comfort zone when I got up there instead of being open and vulnerable and living truthfully. And I know exactly where that came from. Right now, in my everyday life, I have to fight every impulse I have with everything I have in me just so that I can get by. So I don't say things I'll regret later. So I can keep a job. So they don't throw me in the loony bin. Right before I left work, I had to leave my boss' office very quickly (after fighting the urge to tell him he was full of crap) so that I wouldn't either cry or start throwing things. And I have to do this every day. Every. Day. And within an hour of class starting, I'm supposed to turn all of that off, take down every defense mechanism, and live truthfully, following every impulse. There was part of me that just wanted to go up there and cry about the day I had. There was part of me that wanted to just go lie down and suck my tongue and twirl my hair. But I fixated on the bear because he was there and he was safe and I didn't have to look at the rest of my class and I didn't have to let them see that I'm a wreck at the moment.

I came home thinking maybe I'm not cut out for this. Maybe I'm too afraid to actually be any good at this. Knowing that this is what I really want to be doing, but afraid that I just plain suck at it and always will. Like that feeling that maybe you never will meet your Prince Charming. You know he's out there, but he's already married or lives somewhere you've never been and never plan on going. I want to be in this class and I want to be good at this. I want to be great at this. And the only way I'm going to do that is to learn to live truthfully.

If I just randomly start yelling one day, I'm just practicing. Just so you know.

...

Ho

Lee

Fuck

I can't even begin to describe tonight's class, but of course, I have to try.

I was tackled. I was thrown. I was kissed. I was embraced. I was leaped over. I was crawled under. I was spun. I was pinned. I was scared. I was loved. I fell in love. I fell out of love. I disgusted. I frustrated. I excited. I amused. I hurt. And now I do hurt - I'm achy all over. Everything from my little toe to my spirit, but my spirit is achy in the good way. I hit so many emotions today, and pushed them as far as I could take them. I broke down and cried at one point because I just had to. But then I came back, got myself together, and threw myself back into the fray.

There was a moment when my arms wanted to move, so I moved them. There was a moment when I wanted to twirl, so I twirled. There was a moment when I wanted to do the doggie break, so I tried, but my partner didn't quite get it so we did this weird feline rubbing thing. There was a moment when I needed to move my upper body in circles parallel to the wall, so I moved my upper body in circles parallel to the wall. I don't know if I can tell you what it feels like to be that free. To follow every impulse. To speak when you need to, and to stand still when you need to. I'm not advocating this kind of behavior for every day living necessarily, but just try to imagine how well you get to know yourself when you are listening to everything your body is telling you to do. And when your body is telling you to do things based on the other people and objects around you. And then you connect with that person in that moment and you both do what your bodies tell you to, be it dance or jump or roll or kiss or melt and crumple and laugh.

It's funny. I was talking with the teacher before class about how the class is going and what I'm getting out of it, and I get buzzed talking about it. As the class was progressing, he was getting buzzed watching us. You could see it when we would talk about an exercise - he kept losing his words he was so excited about the work we were doing. I have to give him a lot of credit for creating that environment, and for letting the class go where the class needs to go, the same way our movement goes where it needs to. He put his faith in us as actors, and as students, and in return, we put our faith in him and in each other. I wish everyone, everyone, could experience that once in their lives. To be somewhere you are trusted and loved and accepted and given license to go to those scary places knowing that you are still trusted and loved and accepted when you get there and when you come out on the other side (as long as you don't actually cause physical harm to anyone else). And scary places can be places of lust or love or tenderness, too - they don't just have to be about fear or anger or pain. It all depends on who you are and where you are in the moment.

I had a moment tonight when I broken down and cried. There were only three of us in class tonight which was, in a way, wonderful because we were able to establish that comfort level and we were all able to work a lot. But there was a moment when we had all been fighting and pushing and shoving and pulling and just all kinds of angsty. And it ended with the three of us kind of in a heap and I just cried. It was a release of sorts, a frustration with all of the negativity. But then I also had to deal with the reactions my partners had to my crying. Did I want them to comfort me? How did it feel when they did? I think there are the seeds in there of something I need to look at in me. On the up side, even though it took a lot out of me to go there, I was able to get myself together and dive back in. The problem a lot of actors have with this kind of work is that they can't put it on the shelf when the exercise or class or performance is over. They take all of that with them and dwell on it and stew in it and question who they are and whether or not they are worth anything and all of that stuff. It is, essentially, why Heath Ledger died - he couldn't separate himself from the Joker which led to the anti-depressants which led to the overdose and there we are. The up shot being, that's not me. The down shot being, that's a lot of actors out there. I get afraid for them sometimes.

I wish you could experience this because I'm not doing it justice. Just know that I came home energized and exhausted and knowing that this is exactly what I am supposed to be doing. And that I have the potential to be really really good at this.

And thus begins the next wave of relief tears.

New Session

So this session of classes is ending a bit abruptly for me. Last week's Wednesday class was canceled due to instructor conflict (she had a show opening that she had to go perform in), and I can't go tonight because I'm in tech for a show of my own. I'm glad to be in a show - I can't even tell you how good it feels to be performing again - but I feel like I didn't really get an ending to this class session. Our Tuesday class this week was postponed to next week, too, due to instructor conflict. I think it might feel weird to go in for just one more class. I dunno. It does leave me looking forward to the next session when I can get in there and really start working, you know?

I got something in the mail that I can't tell you about yet, but that had me kind of bouncing off the walls with glee. More on that later.

Scraped and Sore

Wow. Last night was an intense physical and emotional workout.

We started out by giving the teacher some feedback on the class so far. Nobody wanted to say anything, so I started out by saying I'd rather not do the class barefoot, partially because I'm not big on being barefoot most of the time, but mostly because the floor that we're working on has god knows what all over it - dust, dirt, nails, paint chips. It has already cut my foot once, someone else's foot once, and I think something snagged a hole in my shirt when we were doing floor exercises last week (either that, or the shirt had a hole in it when I bought it which would make me very sad). I understand that we either need to all be barefoot or nobody can be, but I'd rather not be. Which then got the ball rolling - people asking questions, making comments. I never thought of myself as an instigator or a leader, but I guess sometimes, when I have to be, I can be. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

The rest of the class was incredible. We started to make progress - taking the things we had done in previous classes, and applying them to story and character and dialogue and improvisation. There was still lots of running and jumping and playing, but there was also fighting and fury and fear. The good kind of fear. I don't think anyone was ever concerned about their own safety. I did, however, manage to scrape my arm on the wall, and I did something in a fit of rage that left my right thumb feeling, well, not right. But it was great. I loved being able to tap into all of those emotions.

We also had an opportunity to watch our classmates work (we were split in groups, so we watched the other group) which allowed us to provide and receive feedback on what we were doing. I found this extremely helpful. One of my issues with the first repetition class was I wasn't sure if what I was doing read to the audience. Last night, I got feedback that some of the things I was doing were reading, and were reading really well. So that is encouraging.

It was also interesting to see the different personalities of my classmates in a very real setting and very real situations. Up to this point, we have interacted with one another on a very physical level, but with almost no verbal interaction. Last night, we had to discuss our ideas and plan out our scenes. It was interesting to see what ideas people come up with, who is more dominant, who is a leader, and who is a follower. I left kind of wondering what my other classmates thought of me.

I like this class. We have next week off, but then one (possibly two) more. That should give the scrape time to heal, and should perhaps give me time to build up a thick enough skin that I don't even notice next time I cut my foot.