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

2003-06-04 - 7:16 p.m.

a vigorous scrubbing, and some crying, and some uncomfortable realizations

So we went into a class today, and the teacher said to us "You may have heard from the other group that you're going to cry in here today, but that's not necessarily going to happen."

Ummmm...buckle up kids.

The truth is that there was nothing in the exercises that meant we were going to cry. But it was about sharing of yourself, and opening yourself up in front of people.

And we cried.

I cried.

Most of us cried.

I talked about being afraid of not being able to love (though in my defense someone else brought up the topic first), and about my sisters, and a little about ShyGirl, and I cried.

The class clown, who is *always* happy-go-lucky stood there and joked for two minutes about his ex-girlfriend, and then broke down and sobbed. Just sobbed. The transformation was incredible.

One of the guys is a veteran of the Korean War, and he talked for a couple of minutes about how much he hated the rats there. Couldn't stand rats. Waking up with one on your chest. Terrible. Then suddenly he said, "I say I hate the rats, but really I hated Korea. I hated being there. I hated shooting at people, I hated being shot at." Then he told a story about how he killed a man with a bayonet. I mean, holy fucking shit. It's amazing the depths of feeling that hide in people. The rich experiences that are just waiting to come out, waiting for expression.

I said today that acting study for me is like being scrubbed down with lye soap. It's a process of rubbing myself raw, and letting the emotions, and all the shit I hide shine through.

The crying is good. The crying is just a reaction to honest emotion. Which is what you really need to get at to make acting work.


Okay, so here's the part that I didn't want to talk about.

In the class there's this girl. 20 years old. Adorable. Call her Lil-D for now. During this exercise, the teacher kept telling us to connect with someone. Sometimes she would force us to pick a person and talk just to them. So while Lil-D was talking about Love and lack of, and fear of opening up, and all those things that I identify with so strongly, she was looking at me. And I just tried to project acceptance, and understanding, and no judgment. And she complemented me on my smile. And I just, you know, I just feel semi-smitten.

Which is so stupid. Because I always do this. Besides which, Hello! 11-year age difference. It's just dumb, and dumb. And there's just so much sharing and stuff going on, and I feel like if I can make it through this without going crazy, these people are going to be my friends forever. Just forever. It's hard not to take that closeness, and let it go to bad, stupid, ridiculous places.


Okay, here's the other thing I don't want to talk about.

Today, during that exercise, when talking about ShyGirl, I said that I would rather be hurt than hurt someone else. Here's what I realized during lunch.

That's bullshit.

I'm *much* more scared of being hurt. In fact, as much as I regret hurting anyone, it's because I don't want to be hurt that I broke up with ShyGirl. I haven't allowed myself to really be hurt in years now. Because it sucks so very, very much.

So, yeah, anyway, just a little personal epiphany for ya.

I have to go now. In monologue class today, the teacher told me that neither one I'd picked (and memorized and rehearsed, etc) is good for me. So I need two new ones (memorized and rehearsed, and yadda-yadda-yadda) by Friday.

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