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.