"Acting represents all that human beings experience, and if you want it to be 'nice' you will never be a serious communicator of the human experience." - Larry Moss

Me: "Acting is fucking brutal. People who think otherwise make me want to punch things."
Friend: "And there you have it.... just agreeing with you."

I've mentioned before my extreme distaste for those who think actors "lazy" or "stupid" since actors are the hardest working people I know. Tonight has just served to remind me how incredibly foolish those people are.

Over the past several weeks I've bee rehearsing a show I loved from the day I read it. I had my heart set on a specific role - in fact it was the only role I cared about being cast in for my company's 2013 season. In the beginning I thought the tough part would be the fact that the part requires partial nudity - something I've never done before, then I thought the hard part would be the fact that she is dying. I was wrong on both counts.

The more I learned the role, the more I mulled over everything about the script, the more I got a feel for all but one short scene - and along the way I found myself losing touch with a different scene which is so pure it almost brought me to tears during my audition. I kept thinking I would find a way back to the honest emotion of that scene - and I would figure the other out, but it didn't happen.

I broke down and voiced my concerns to the director, but tonight somehow it was just too much too bear anymore. My fellow actors were pouring their hearts out and I just knew I was letting them down. "You're FINE" everyone kept telling me as we left the theatre - there are two problems with that, the first being how can you possibly accept that when every cell in your entire being says you're not being present or honest? The second? How is "fine" ever acceptable in the arts? Fine is simply not good enough. If fine is your goal, why are you even trying?

I drove home in such a daze I'm not even sure I was aware of anything but the fear, failure, and loathing welling up in the back of my throat. I wasn't entirely sure where I was going -I wasn't headed home. Finally, I pulled into an empty park.

I reached out to ask advice of two people I trust. I re-watched Patsy Rodenburg's Why I Do Theatre TED Talk video, I googled a million links until finally something struck a chord. Then, one of the two friends responded and her response simply built upon what I'd just figured out. After reading and re-reading the scene I realized... I had gotten so inside my own head I wasn't participating.

That's right - while playing a girl who is dying, but is so caring she is far more hurt by the pain she realizes she is/will be causing her loved ones with her untimely death than she is concerned for herself... I was busy thinking about myself. In short, I was being human and had lost sight of the intention. I felt a broken, worn out fool. It took me 5 hours of intense scrutiny to see something so obvious it could have punched me in the face. But then, perhaps I'm still looking from the wrong perspective. Maybe I needed to be hit in the head, but in the end I did work through it and I'm feeling pretty confident that on Saturday when I have a chance to attempt the scene again this time I'll get it right. With two weeks to go, that doesn't seem like such a bad place to be.

Finding Balance

I'm not sure why, but it always seems as though everything comes together all at once. Now, it is true I've handled some recent monumental letdowns - but mostly in spite of barely having time to live I've been joyfully accepting, attempting, and opening up about things I spent years, even decades concealing.

I was cast in the one role I desired most this season and I am thoroughly enjoying the discovery, the play, - and the vulnerability in the role.

I started taking yoga, and have consistently taken 1-3 classes per week for several weeks now. I feel great, I have a more positive self-image, and I have been to appreciate and love myself in a way I never thought  could.

I wrote a new play- a short one mind you, but a complete one that I feel good about - and then I showed it to people, Not many people, but a few people I trust. For the first time in the 12 years since I started writing plays, I actually feel like I'm hiding a talent, rather than looking back on something I once thought I could do. It reminds me I once applied for a very prestigious fellowship, and although I was rejected, the rejection letter gave every indication I was seriously considered - and that my writing was intelligent, confident, ambitious in all the best ways and full of enormous promise.

It seems I am facing fears one by one. Fear is a powerful thing, but mostly because it gathers like a storm of doubts and what ifs - when we stand tall and look them straight in the eye, they're just hurdles we can take one at a time. I promise I will continue to take those hurdles, confidently, giving in to the discomfort so I can find the honesty, the humor, the promise, the fullness and the joy.