"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.

Lucky I'm in love with my best friend, lucky to have been where I have been...

Sometimes these days I take stock and can't quite believe how far I've come in a year. This time last year I was unbearably miserable. I trusted no one. I had no friends, no faith in myself, no sense that I fit in anywhere - and yet I kept trying to squeeze myself into every space I thought I might fit.

Then something happened. I was terribly let down, stabbed in the back by those I had once thought I could trust the most... and that allowed me to see how abusive our relationship had become. I was once again allowing someone to brutalize me emotionally for no good reason - a decade after I had vowed I would never let anyone do that to me again. It was horrible, but it was also freeing. Once I let go of the tears, I could let myself float, and see where I fit. I could make my own choices, be my own person  - but more than anything I could put myself in situations which would challenge me.

Since that time:
I've become closer with my husband.
I've met new friends and become friends with others who were previously just acquaintances.
I've taken roles I didn't want because I knew they would push me, and I have tried my damndest to do them justice.
I've written two scripts.
I've agreed to do nudity onstage, because I love the role so much I think its worth the vulnerability.
I've opened up to people about how I was raped when I was 20.
I've started a new 101 in 1001 and have already accomplished several things on the list.
I finally got the guts to paint my living room the color I wanted to - in spite of what others might think.
I stopped caring what others think so much, and started to become the person I once was back before the first time I allowed someone to abuse me.

I have SO much joy in the last 5 months of my life - I've played melodrama, a crochety grandma, a lesbian desperate for a baby, a poet reunited with the man who could have been the love of her life, and now I'm playing a truly joyful girl who is dying far before her time and yet cares far more about how it will impact the others in her life, oh and up next? I'm gonna share the stage with my husband. Something I haven't done since 1998. It'll be raunchy, but sweet, and I'm looking forward to the experience.

My baby sister and one of my best friends from college - two women who have lived through a world of pain have found truly deserving men and I'm thrilled to put on a pretty frock and stand up there to share in their special days.

Honestly, I'm not sure how one gets so lucky.

It's Just Question of Eliminating Obstacles

We all say the same things - or at least it seems that way (and coincidentally we all sound like a late-90's Sheryl Crow song): "No one said it would be easy, but no one said it's be this hard." and this just idn't how I thought my life would be, and I just though I'd be more established by now.

Well folks, its happening. After 8 years of marriage which included 3 of Husband in law school, followed by 4 of him working like hell to find a job and/or make his solo practice work, followed by the same with the addition of a few adjunct classes for a local college... today he started a new job. And folks, this is no small thing. It's part time, yet still enough that all of a sudden I feel the pressure lifting from my shoulders. No more must I suffer the unexpected burden of breadwinner. No more must I feel trapped in an unsatisfying, horribly stressful, dead-end job. 

Those people who say "I hate musicals! That never happens. No one ever just randomly bursts into song." I feel a little badly for them, they must have never felt pure joy.

Life Upon the Wicked Stage

     All of us in the theatrical community have heard reference to "the acting bug", but in truth it seems to be more of a parasite than a generic bug. Dictionary.com defines a parasite as the following:  "an organism that lives on or in an organism of another species, known as the host, from the body of which it obtains nutriment." However, there are studies which show occasionally there are parasites which are just as helpful to the host, for example hookworms in small quantities prevent humans from suffering from allergies, asthma and a myriad of other common ailments without harm to the host.
    The "acting bug" is like that. That's why people call it a bug, once the creature has found a cozy nest inside its host, it may lie dormant, but it never lets go. Attempts to suppress the creature, to live what most might refer to as a "normal life" serve only to weaken the nature of the host.
    It's been too long since I've eagerly anticipated the fight for a role and now that has arrived I feel electric. Every fiber of my being buzzes with thought, passion, courage - I don't just want to win this role - I want to find the precipice of the emotional barriers, spread my arms, close my eyes and leap.
    Those around me think I'm mad, perhaps I am, since now that my schedule has cleared up I've signed on for one show and am auditioning for two more. All I can say is if this is madness, let me stay mad.

Review: Shepherd Productions, Waiting for Godot

Even though it was 16 years ago, I still recount in awe the sheer acting brilliance portrayed by the Tony, Drama Desk, and Obie Award-winning actor/director Brian Bedford.  I was 17, watching a production of Peter Shaffer’s Amadeus. For those less familiar with the play, it tells the life of Mozart through fellow composer, Salieri who is tormented by Mozart’s success and seeks to destroy him.  The story begins at the end of Salieri’s life, then quickly shifts to when the pair were young men – and as I sat there in the cushioned seats of the Festival Theatre in Stratford Canada I was spellbound. Here was a man who could do something I had never seen before, in the space of seconds he was utterly transformed from a completely believable frail old man to a sprightly youth. 

          Last night, during the opening night of Shepherd Productions performance of Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, I was reminded of this experience due to the sheer talent of the cast. Admittedly, I am familiar with all five actors and the entire production team, in just the past six months I have directed one of the actors and appeared onstage with another, but these were not the men I know. 

          I first saw Waiting for Godot for a high school class when it was presented by the (long gone) Red Herring Company. Although half my life has passed in the meantime the two experiences could hardly be more different. Red Herring ‘s production was presented (to my memory) on an almost entirely bare stage in an old warehouse with the audience seated in folding chairs, Shepherd’s version is on a set which is simultaneously austere and slightly whimsical due to Doug Northern’s stunning design.  Both productions deftly brought forth the inherent humor, without losing sight of the grit and world-weary humanity.

          Last night, however I was in awe of the transformation of two men whose talents I already admired, Jim Azelvandre as Gogo initially robbed all attention, delightful to watch in his misery – his physicality and facial expressions lending a nuanced blend of the addled and childlike. However,  Jeff Potts as Didi held his own, showing true skill, appearing older, and burdened perhaps equally by his ongoing appointment with the mysterious Godot, the ever-increasing loss of Gogo’s mind, and doubt of his own intelligence.

          John Feather as Pozzo and Michael Moore as Lucky make a well-suited pair as they charm, sputter, and growl through their two appearances and  Robert Prines does a fine job of displaying the needed contrast of youth and innocence.

          As I mentioned to a friend last night, it is possible the thing that was most different about my experiences with the two productions of Waiting for Godot was me, more specifically the depth of life experience – 17 years and philosophy minor later, certainly the script held me rapt in entirely different ways… as it should.  Regardless, where you are in life this is a production everyone should make time to experience. What you see in the production, and in yourself, just might surprise you.

Waiting for Godot runs Thursday-Saturday, September 6^th-8^th and 13^th-15^th at 8pm, with a matinee at 2pm on Sunday, September 9^th.  Tickets are $15 ($10 for Student/Senior), to reserve yours visit www.madlab.net or call 614.221.5418.