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.