chasing that feeling
of being in the moment
when the moment is all
made up
a tale of an actor coming out of dissociation
chasing that feeling
of being in the moment
when the moment is all
made up
a tale of an actor coming out of dissociation
yesterday was a
good(?!?)
day
chores accomplished
things done
(ahead of time even)
friends talked to
(friends!
what a concept!)
and i hope
that this energy
positivity
whatever-y
lasts
just a few days longer
because man, i have so many things on my to-do list
that are just waiting for a day
when i feel like i have the mental stamina
to do them.
~~~
toaster strudels
toasted
iced
eaten
bagels
ordered
made
still waiting
for delivery
(to house and to mouth)
do we need two different breakfasts this morning?
absolutely not.
but do we deserve them?
i’d say…
maybe?
~~~
being an actor is so weird
because not only are we
sharing intimate parts of
our selves/emotions/brains/pasts
and saying ‘hey, do you believe this
in a totally different context?’
we are also airing all our dirty laundry
out
for others’ entertainment
and hoping it’s cathartic
to both audience and us
(while still holding a piece
within our toolbox
just in case
we need it
again)
all the while,
those of us who have gone to school
for this
weirdness
have literally been graded
on things that
can be quite subjective
and we all just kind of had to
admit it
and accept it
and be graded
on our souls
(while being so young
we probably weren’t even connected
with the fullness
of those souls
quite yet)
(i know i, now, ten years later,
could still be more connected,
for my self and for my art.)
don’t be scared,
be you.
don’t be safe,
be you.
don’t overthink,
trust your instincts,
be you.
this seems like positive,
encouraging,
enlightening
advice
on the surface
but then my
[overthinking]
brain
turns it all on its head
again
aren’t the scared/
safe
parts
part of me,
too?
is it just another
nature vs. nurture?
how i was born
vs.
what the trauma turned me into?
what do i do
who can i be?
i contain multitudes
it’s why acting
so why can’t i trust the multitudes
within me?
trust
let go
surrender and embrace
i didn’t think that
being on a stage
would make me emotional
(and to be fair,
it didn’t make me
cry
or
giggle
or elate
or spiritualize
or anything like that)
but seeing
rows
upon rows
of seats
(though empty)
from center stage
brought me a sense of
calmness
that i haven’t felt in
literal
years.
the joyful teasing
the conviviality of being around each other
the discussing
planning
problem-solving
the sharing, watching, playing
the family.
~~~
observation;
my downfall
[/upfall?]
~~~
can i
just
be good at acting
[on my own]
without needing such guidance
to stop overthinking?
[please???]
there are so many facets of myself
that i wish were truly true
i want to be the tragic ending,
the too good for this world
the died much too young,
and i want to be the puck
the trickster
the bringer of chaos and of all unknowns,
and i want to live long long long,
and i want to be arson
and i want to be fairy
and i want to be cryptid
and i want to be house spouse
and i want to be parent
and i want to be cool aunt/uncle
and i want to be chestless
and i want to float between and above and around and absent and outside of…
but if i’m to believe Rain, what we do is truly part of us,
so does that extend to the wants as well?
to observe
without thinking to oneself
‘i am observing’
to react
without thinking to oneself
‘i am reacting’
to live life
without thinking to oneself
‘i am living’
these are the challenges,
the paradoxes,
of being an actor.
when
will we close on the house?
when
will i feel like i’ve started my acting career?
when
will i feel like i’m actually doing morning pages right?
when
will the inevitability of time stop crushing me
and instead harbor in a newfound sense
of comfort with my own mortality?
finding the perfect music station
is an art
(one i’m not nearly as familiar with
as my spouse)
and so when i’m doing my morning pages/poems
without them
(because sleep is a necessity)
and have to find some morning tunes
on my own
i never land on
what i initially think i’ll land on…
at least there’s coffee.
~~~
so hungry
but i’m not used to eating while writing
i eat and suddenly i want
passive entertainment
it seems this old dog needs to learn a couple new tricks
~~~
if i leave
and come back
will i keep the thread of morning poetry?
~~~
fed,
caffeinated,
[not yet watered],
and i feel so much better able to
really get into these here morning page poems
is this what i *should* be doing each morning?
instead of simply sipping coffee
and waiting until after i write to eat my breakfast?
or is this simply a daily thing
that changes around
and adjusts
as my own outlook
and mood
and level of tiredness
adjusts
day
by
day
by
day
?
~~~
i mean, if i’m going to be writing a million small poems
(and by a million, let’s be honest and say probably six)
might as well just
truly
go for it.
~~~
the nerves are starting to settle in
about class later on today
(this is why i enjoyed having a circus class prior to acting class
yes, i never got to nap,
but i also never spent half the day worrying about/obsessing over my performance)
i like how our teacher sets up the class
you perform, and then she asks what goals you had for that particular scene or monologue
and this week i’m simply hoping to continue the work
that suddenly broke free two weeks ago.
i want to breathe into the monologue,
i want to be in the moment,
and i want to use my own self-loathing
to create art
instead of beating myself down all the time.
and yes, the ultimate goal is health
and possibly, someday, not constantly feeling like the most worthless hunk of flesh on the planet,
but while that’s what it’s like in my brain,
might as well be honest
and use it to connect with this character i’ve been [not so secretly] wanting to play for ages,
and maybe if i can connect while i’m in the throes of
not-so-great mental health
maybe that means i can find my way in
when i am in a healthier mental state
remember the physical sensations
without being too harsh…
maybe?
but today isn’t about how to get there down the road
that’s not the goal today;
it’s to be in the present
to breathe into the moment
to know that i have all this inside me
and relax
and trust
and simply let myself shine through.
i’d like
for my poetry
(and my acting, similarly,)
to open up the secret parts of me,
those parts that no one [sometimes not even me] sees
and bring honesty and truth and a dash of the full, elaborate
condition
of humanity
out into the forefront of all our minds
but i find
that i hide behind
humor
and perfectionism
and overthinking
and intellectualism
(but aren’t those a part of me, too?)
how can i find the true me
if it takes a bomb to push through?
that day
in class
when i accessed
what i’ve been trying to for so long,
it wasn’t a push or a force or a bomb
it was a steady ease into the presentness of my body
my mind felt connected,
continually,
for the first time in (give or take) an eternity
so maybe that should be my aim
the gentle
allowance
of self
into my poetry
but how to do that?
[breathe?]