Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate.
Today, oh... today. Really, this month... oh this month. Or maybe, this year... oh this year.
This, is an entry for me. I'm talking some things out. Not private, just not for anyone else particularly.
The phenomenon of a flat spin: helpless decline, slowed and desperate, inevitably ending in catastrophe. That is what we call a metaphor, children. People I respect, who's work and opinions I respect and let influence me have been more open with me, after my most recent play closed. They were surprised I am pursuing acting as a career, and not in the good way. I don't know how to take it, really. One of them said they had only seen one person actually improve as an actor since getting here, and it wasn't me. The other one (who is, by the by, a professional actor) seemed to simply be taken by complete surprise after he asked "So, what are you looking for after you leave here?"
It bleeds over, like parchment takes ink. Rehearsals are getting hard for me because of this. Second guessing, pressure, a complete lack of satisfaction. A complete plague of questions. One director has a good opinion of me, I think. Though, I was wrong before. The other... hasn't given most of the cast too much feedback... so at least I have the bliss of ignorance to dull the sting. It is really a supreme and deep knowledge that I don't deserve to be here. I am not good enough to be an actor. I don't write well enough for that in itself to be an option. I am not a serious scholar, anymore. I am decent musically, but like the scholarship, writing and acting, decent isn't enough. Is it a lack of self-discipline? Motivation? Innate talent? I do not know anymore... and I have almost given up on trying to figure it out. Almost, because when you actually do give up, then there's no hope left.
My friends have people who work in casting at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater telling them they want to see their resumes. My peers in the program are getting breaks and recognition. I am treading water. My thesis is, as I call it comically with people in the program, my Divine Comedy. I've seen the leopard, the lion and the wolf, but no Virgil, and the the critters look pretty damn hungry. My acting, save for in Romeo and Juliet, has not raised any eyebrows. In R&J, it felt like I was three caricatures as Tybalt, the Apothecary, and Paris' Page. And those are what had people telling me "good job man!" and "your characters were really clear!" and "I felt bad when you died!" What does that mean? I felt like shit about those roles. At least the combat went well.... Maybe I just have no sense of aesthetic.
But treating the symptoms doesn't cure the disease. I've got regrets. Times I should have tried harder, I'm not talking academically or artistically, you can always try harder there, that's a never-ending struggle against complacency. I am thinking of people I should have tried harder to keep, to help or to know. People say they want to live a life full enough to have regrets. I'm not so sure the logic in that is sound. Nobody wants to make others unhappy, and I feel like a poisoned omen, like I leave the fields fallow and salted behind me.
Yeah, that is about it for now, I think.
This, is an entry for me. I'm talking some things out. Not private, just not for anyone else particularly.
The phenomenon of a flat spin: helpless decline, slowed and desperate, inevitably ending in catastrophe. That is what we call a metaphor, children. People I respect, who's work and opinions I respect and let influence me have been more open with me, after my most recent play closed. They were surprised I am pursuing acting as a career, and not in the good way. I don't know how to take it, really. One of them said they had only seen one person actually improve as an actor since getting here, and it wasn't me. The other one (who is, by the by, a professional actor) seemed to simply be taken by complete surprise after he asked "So, what are you looking for after you leave here?"
It bleeds over, like parchment takes ink. Rehearsals are getting hard for me because of this. Second guessing, pressure, a complete lack of satisfaction. A complete plague of questions. One director has a good opinion of me, I think. Though, I was wrong before. The other... hasn't given most of the cast too much feedback... so at least I have the bliss of ignorance to dull the sting. It is really a supreme and deep knowledge that I don't deserve to be here. I am not good enough to be an actor. I don't write well enough for that in itself to be an option. I am not a serious scholar, anymore. I am decent musically, but like the scholarship, writing and acting, decent isn't enough. Is it a lack of self-discipline? Motivation? Innate talent? I do not know anymore... and I have almost given up on trying to figure it out. Almost, because when you actually do give up, then there's no hope left.
My friends have people who work in casting at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater telling them they want to see their resumes. My peers in the program are getting breaks and recognition. I am treading water. My thesis is, as I call it comically with people in the program, my Divine Comedy. I've seen the leopard, the lion and the wolf, but no Virgil, and the the critters look pretty damn hungry. My acting, save for in Romeo and Juliet, has not raised any eyebrows. In R&J, it felt like I was three caricatures as Tybalt, the Apothecary, and Paris' Page. And those are what had people telling me "good job man!" and "your characters were really clear!" and "I felt bad when you died!" What does that mean? I felt like shit about those roles. At least the combat went well.... Maybe I just have no sense of aesthetic.
But treating the symptoms doesn't cure the disease. I've got regrets. Times I should have tried harder, I'm not talking academically or artistically, you can always try harder there, that's a never-ending struggle against complacency. I am thinking of people I should have tried harder to keep, to help or to know. People say they want to live a life full enough to have regrets. I'm not so sure the logic in that is sound. Nobody wants to make others unhappy, and I feel like a poisoned omen, like I leave the fields fallow and salted behind me.
Yeah, that is about it for now, I think.