(no subject)
As I perform onstage less, it's gets harder to perform onstage. I've become a bit of a white knuckler when it comes to performing in front of an audience, but last night I sang one of my own songs (so I couldn't get it wrong!) and typically I have trouble when I see everyone looking at me, but then the energy of the moment strikes; I become another person and do the thing and deal with consequences afterward. Last night I never really cleared my own crap. I was peaking behind the curtain, looking at the guy faking the Wizard and the moment didn't make me ascend (or descend for that matter) to another place. I felt queasy the entire time and just wanted it to end.
A friend once observed that I can be so much bigger than life in a performance and then immediately retreat to a much much smaller person. When I get to a crowd of less than 6 or so, I feel fine and I feel like I can just be cool and hang. As soon as there's a bunch of people looking at me, though....Ugh. When Barb and I had been dating for 10 months or so, she brought me to her company's holiday party. I didn't know anyone, but she introduced me to this one and that one and it was all pleasant enough. We got to one woman and her husband who wanted an extended chat (Barb had told them all about me, apparently) and we started a conversation about the cult of celebrity, Hollywood, etc and having a few drinks in me, I was starting to riff on this theme. It was a big room, but I guess I was loud enough to be noticed by other people. A crowd started to form (Not huge, but maybe a dozen or so people sort of surrounding me by the end of it) and I realized that nobody else was talking and that I was doing a monologue and as more people joined this huddle, I really began to feel suffocated. I didn't recall feeling this way before - I've always been sort of shy, but performing was my shield and it was never a problem. I lied about having to use the bathroom and walked away and stood in the men's room for a minute or two while I tried to get my shit together.
It seems to be getting worse instead of better.
So why then, you ask, do I still perform? On some level, I obviously love doing it, but on another level, much closer to my brain, there's this loser that can't believe anyone would want to hear what he has to say. Where once I was fearless as a performer (fearless of my safety, sanity, dignity, whatever) I am now feeling like I have to force myself to do this.
Interestingly, improv doesn't bother me at all. I still feel that protective layer and the audience doesn't exist or if they do, they don't bother me at all. Performing music used to be the same thing. A guitar was my defense. So now that music is getting difficult, I wonder how long it'll be before I'm all up in my head about improv and rendered useless as a result.
I've told a bunch of people that I not going to be acting any longer. And my reasons of my voice and body being tired are legit reasons. But I guess that the underlying reason is that I just don't have the balls any longer to do it. My neurotic twitching has made me immobile. But, who knows? If the ideal role comes along or someone is really in a bind, I may have to give it another shot, but for now, I'm actually feeling comforted in the idea that I don't have to get up in front of people and do a show. And that makes me feel like a coward.
I'm disappointed in myself. I'd always hoped I was made of tougher stuff than this.
A friend once observed that I can be so much bigger than life in a performance and then immediately retreat to a much much smaller person. When I get to a crowd of less than 6 or so, I feel fine and I feel like I can just be cool and hang. As soon as there's a bunch of people looking at me, though....Ugh. When Barb and I had been dating for 10 months or so, she brought me to her company's holiday party. I didn't know anyone, but she introduced me to this one and that one and it was all pleasant enough. We got to one woman and her husband who wanted an extended chat (Barb had told them all about me, apparently) and we started a conversation about the cult of celebrity, Hollywood, etc and having a few drinks in me, I was starting to riff on this theme. It was a big room, but I guess I was loud enough to be noticed by other people. A crowd started to form (Not huge, but maybe a dozen or so people sort of surrounding me by the end of it) and I realized that nobody else was talking and that I was doing a monologue and as more people joined this huddle, I really began to feel suffocated. I didn't recall feeling this way before - I've always been sort of shy, but performing was my shield and it was never a problem. I lied about having to use the bathroom and walked away and stood in the men's room for a minute or two while I tried to get my shit together.
It seems to be getting worse instead of better.
So why then, you ask, do I still perform? On some level, I obviously love doing it, but on another level, much closer to my brain, there's this loser that can't believe anyone would want to hear what he has to say. Where once I was fearless as a performer (fearless of my safety, sanity, dignity, whatever) I am now feeling like I have to force myself to do this.
Interestingly, improv doesn't bother me at all. I still feel that protective layer and the audience doesn't exist or if they do, they don't bother me at all. Performing music used to be the same thing. A guitar was my defense. So now that music is getting difficult, I wonder how long it'll be before I'm all up in my head about improv and rendered useless as a result.
I've told a bunch of people that I not going to be acting any longer. And my reasons of my voice and body being tired are legit reasons. But I guess that the underlying reason is that I just don't have the balls any longer to do it. My neurotic twitching has made me immobile. But, who knows? If the ideal role comes along or someone is really in a bind, I may have to give it another shot, but for now, I'm actually feeling comforted in the idea that I don't have to get up in front of people and do a show. And that makes me feel like a coward.
I'm disappointed in myself. I'd always hoped I was made of tougher stuff than this.