I'm officially an actor having finally been on a stage and "acted." I'm also having fun with Improv and got to see another great show at The Groundlings with some classmates.
The funny thing about "acting" and improv is how much you actually learn about yourself while immersed in these make-believe worlds. I had slightly flopped my first time on the stage. Well to be fair to myself, I didn't flop and it was my first day. But what my teacher told me to do was to stop acting and just be me.
Just be me... But I'm still not entirely sure who me is. This thought, followed by many subsequent self-aware epiphanies and rants made me wonder if my life was an act. I know it's not that weird, but how much of an act have I displayed over the course of my life?
Let's see... Well I didn't like going to the babysitter's when I was little--having to deal with her husband with his hands down his pants scratching his balls all the time. But I stayed quiet and obeyed and watched whatever they told me to watch and ate whatever they told me to eat--afraid to ask for or about anything and in effect, acting.
When those strange little urges crept up my legs to parts unknown to me--I pretended to be completely asexual and guilty with every thought and craving I had.
Then there were the years after paradise loss and I've been faking it ever since--with the occasional real-gasm sprinkled throughout. Thank God.
But it wasn't all sexual acting. There are the times most of us act in other areas of life. For example:
No, I don't like your mother but I'll pretend and be nice.
No, I think your husband is a piece of shit and completely undeserving of you.
Yes, sometimes I actually do like doing nothing but watching TV and eating an entire pizza by myself.
Oh I totally love that band! (act like you know what they're talking about)
Yes, I like country music.
Yes, I do care about silly things like Valentine's Day and kisses at Midnight on New Year's Eve.
No, I hate PLACE FOREIGN FOOD HERE.
Yes, I blame men.
My favorite: "Fake it, til you make it!" which leads me to...
No, you actually DO have to be perfect. Not 1950s housewife perfect, but perfect in the hipster sense--the perfect of our era. Perfectly interesting and gritty and trying to be different (think tatted ladies who knit and men in suits with gauged earlobes). In this perfection, you have to be the perfect virginal Madonna, the perfect slut, the perfect daughter, the perfect mother, the perfect sex-kitten, the perfect business-woman, the perfect sister, the perfect friend, the perfect person in line at the cashier's, with a perfectly-filled grocery cart, all wrapped up in a perfectly put-together grungy/sexy/professional/indie-rocker ensemble where you will go home and make a perfectly arranged dinner of organic bacon-wrapped free range chicken on a gluten free bun with a side of greens from your perfect garden and Heinz Yellow Mustard (because it's retro).
And breathe.
I actually do have tattoos and love to knit because I genuinely like tattoos and knitting. But sometimes I can't help but secretly relish in how interesting they probably make me to the onlooker. I am trying to be the perfectly un-perfect person. One in which you can make mistakes as long as they're interesting mistakes.
How much of this is really me and how much of this is me trying (aka acting) to please society? I'm working on figuring that out. It's hard because there are so many stigmas out there so some things I don't want to admit to. Pile on the guilt and shame of it all and you got a perfectly confused and crazed lady!
So how can I feel confident and okay with being me? The answer is what so many of my teachers have said and that is knowing you matter.
You matter.
You're enough as you are.
You're entitled to your feelings.
It's okay to desire things that make you happy.
So take off the mask and don't bring the ditz. Go home and get emotionally naked and bring that person with you at all times.
As Uta Hagan's book for actors says, present, don't represent.
These are all things I've learned from "acting" and vocal lessons--not from a doctor or therapist or even church for that matter, but from art.
Another reason for my business is I've been painting more. The great thing about this go-around is that from everything I've been working on I'm finally not allowing myself to worry about creating a perfect outcome or holding myself to any rigid rules. Instead, I'm allowing myself to see where the paint and feeling takes me.
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| "Love is a hang nail" after a poem I wrote about my piece-of-shit ex. Bahahahaaa |
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| This is actually a practice piece from a book-sort of. I left all my oils back in the Mitten and fear spending the money to invest in all new ones (which can get pricey). I usually use acrylic for commissioned work only but right now it's all I have so I'm re-teaching myself how to use it this way-- for my enjoyment and creative vision. |
I'm capable.
I know it's easier said than done and believing and feeling are two different things.
I believe these words of wisdom but I hardly ever feel this way. In fact, last night, I almost didn't go out with my girlfriends because I was feeling ugly and fat. What I wanted to do instead was stand in front of my mirror for a while and stare at my naked body while I squeezed all my belly fat together and jiggled it--which I did as I was getting ready--which made me want to cancel and resort to eating pizza and watching movies on the couch, alone with two cats.
Instead, I did my makeup, put on a bra, and resorted to a more comfortable ensemble but still wore a skirt and heels. I went out with my friends and didn't care what I looked like to anyone else as I had already given myself the worse criticism. I had fun with my friends and let the night go where it wanted to go-- even if that meant sitting staring at lobsters and crabs to rest my achy feet while the rest of the girls flirted with guys. I didn't care if I wasn't being cool or dancing sexy enough. I was going with what I was feeling and that's got to be a part of being true to you. Right?
So I give those reading the assignment given to me: Go home and get naked.
Until next time...
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