No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction at anytime.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction,
a blessed unrest keeps us marching and makes us more alive than others.
-- Martha Graham to Agnes De Mille
Was || Will Be || Past Moments || Now || Notes

2002-03-28 - 9:05 a.m.

Acting workshop


How you doing?

I know there's been a dearth of the love for ya, my sweet, tender D-Land. Last night someone asked me why I was in acting class. I said because when I lost my job back in November I realized that I'd been doing things I hated for far too long, and I wanted to do things I loved. I've been doing this temp job thingy and I don't exactly hate it but I don't exactly love it either. I've been dating RockGirl and I don't exactly hate that either....

And yeah, I did get your advice, and yeah, I understand where you're coming from, and yeah, I appreciate it. I still don't know what to do.

This entry isn't supossed to be about that. It's about how yesterday I was *so* freaking tired, and starting to be sick (cause RockGirl stayed over in spite of my protests (yeah, yeah, grow a spine, blah, blah) and woke up with a fever from the cold that she had managed to share with me during the night) and I drank cherry coke after cherry coke and was still just a fribulating sack of protoplasm all day long.


So last night I went to acting workshop for the first time. And before I even get a real introduction with the teacher, I'm up there in front of everyone doing my monologue. I did the "stand up for bastards" speech from Lear because I already had it memorized. And it sucked ass. Because I was tired and nervous and it was just flat as a pancake. And he starts asking me questions, and I'm all nervous and trying not to be defensive/confrontational. And right off the bat I admit that I did Shakespeare only because I already had it memorized (which turns out to be the wrong answer, cause he said later he was thinking it was gutsy of me to do Shakespeare), and suddenly he doesn't want to talk about it because he feels he's be criticizing the work of the director from Lear, and not criticizing my work. So he asks me what I want to talk about, and I have no idea what he means by that so I go into this thing about "I've never been in an acting class before, so I don't know what to expect, so you tell me what we're supossed to talk about."

Really, it turned out okay. I'd heard he pulls no punches, and that's true. But he's not really mean that I've seen yet. He's just honest. Which is good. Which is neccessary. Which is what I want (though we'll see if I still want it once I've had more of it).

Last night was camera night -- doing cold readings of ad copy in front of a camera, then watching yourself. Rough. The first one all I could think of was how fat my face looked (because all the weight I lost (too fast) before Lear? back with a vengeance) and how much my eyebrows kept moving around. ActingCoach didn't have a lot to say to me, but I think he didn't want to rip in too much before he gets to know me.

It's not going to be easy, I can tell that for sure. It's going to be work, and it's going to be uncomfortable, and it's going to be hard. But I really think it's going to be worth it.

And now it's Thursday morning and there's work to be done, and I don't want to do it. I got spoiled by all those days off. I want my free time back.

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