Saturday, December 31, 2011

Resolves

I promise myself to have more fun and worry less about money.
(I almost didn't buy a hardback book today, because of the price. When did books become luxury goods? It's Murakami's 1Q84 and I've wanted it for months. And I had a gift certificate, and yet...)
I will break out of being boring. Last year was all about money, making it, keeping it, spending it. I was so panicked about staying within the margins that I had very little "fun". Not acceptable. I don't buy anything new, except food. Fun should be a priority.
I will try and be more like Lionel in his sheer good nature and willingness to throw himself into a crowd. And talk to strangers. I'm so shy, I hide when he's speaking to someone. So I miss out on human interaction, which I crave. And I will attempt to speak to the playground mommy's even though I find them a bit scary and normal for me. I'm sure we have nothing in common. Yet I am turning into a bit of a hermit. Why is it so hard to meet new people? Where are the gentle weirdos?
I will be bold about my dreams.
I will keep working on crazy fulfilling projects that will probably go nowhere.
I will engage my mind, to stave off dementia if nothing else.
I will do a theatre project that I can't afford (babysitting) for my soul.
I will continue to dress the way I want, even if I am getting a little old to pull it off. If I keep my legs looking nice I should be able to get away with it. I might even go big this year and shave my head into a Mohawk.
I will no longer sit full of jealousy and or schadenfreude while reading about other peoples successes/failures. I'm not allowed to think snarky thoughts if I'm not throwing myself out there the way I want.
I shall wash the sheets more often.
I shall be nicer to people who irritate me, even though I'm not that good an actress, and oh so VERY easily irritated.
I will write, a lot, since it's something I can do without a babysitter. There are a lot of episodes of Phineas and Ferb to help me out.
I will be very kind to L and T, since I love them so very much, even when they both drive me to distraction.
(as in right now when L steals my laptop to watch a video and I have to download and install a new app on my iPhone to keep writing.)
I will keep the bathroom clean, even though it fills me with a searing anger and loathing of all mankind. Or maybe, back to the second point, a housekeeper can be classified as fun?
I will read more. Which means getting the heck away from cyberspace.
I will play my guitar. It's one thing that gives me genuine pleasure, yet I rarely touch it. What the heck?
And I will eat whatever the hell I want, because I always get food poisoning with normal things like packaged lunch meat, which happened yesterday which rendered me way too sick to enjoy New Years eve. The point is, I'm going to eat as much crazy food as I can.
And then I will go to the gym, which isn't a resolution, I actually like it there, but I do vow to be nice to the resolutioners in there this month, even if they are using all the cardio machines in awkward manners.
And I will make the effort to see the people I love away from cyberspace.
And finally, I will dance as much as I can, because dancing makes me happy and is fun. And I need to have fun before the world ends. (again)





Friday, December 30, 2011

Crisis in Actor-land...

Here is what acting is to me: Pretend.
I've always said (and I stole this from someone, who I can't remember) when I get onstage I put on a funny hat and trust to luck.
I'm not much into actors that "live" their characters, in all their smelly, depressed, antisocial glory. I don't particularly trust them onstage, and I've noticed that these actors will throw you under the bus for their own ends. And gladly lap up the applause at the end.
If you are working through something, please don't do it onstage. The theatre is not a couch and the director is not a therapist. If you are feeling something, great. I feel things too. Deeply, crazily, intensely. Until the scene is over. The  I go into the greenroom and play scrabble. And at the end of the show, even if I've just lost my family in a holocaust, the kingdom is on fire and my life is in ruins,  most likely all I am thinking of is how much I crave a tub of chicken liver and a nice bagel from Jerry's.
I used to be embarrassed that I wasn't intense enough. In acting school, you knew the people who took it seriously, they were wild eyed, unshaven wrecks who burned with fever onstage, and couldn't cope with their job at the donut shop offstage. I never felt legit, until I started studying in England, and realized that THOSE guys manage to stay fairly clean, and sane. My feelings of inadequacy absolutely turned around in the pub backstage at the National Theatre of Great Britain, when mere minutes after a bloody, crazy, intense INSANE performance of Titus Andronicus, Tony Sher was gleefully showing off his new pasta maker, not an angsty wrinkle in sight.
Feeling the truth of the scene is great, but please, please, PLEASE, you need to stay in control! No re drawing the choreography because you feel like doing something different.
Otherwise there would a lot of dead wispy ingenues at the end of a lot of Shakespeares.  Hmm... On the other hand...