Let Go

December 5 – Let Go. What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why?

I cannot think of an answer for this question.

This means I’ll delve into lame material.

I guess I made the leap and “unfollowed” some folks on Twitter and some friends on Facebook. I’ve been trying to pare down my use with Facebook. In fact, I’m pretty sparse. I don’t offer a lot anymore. I’m careful about what I share. Maybe I should be more careful. I dunno. But this particular act of letting go—while it feels kinda good—was nothing ever drastic.

This is my fear of conflict setting in. What if someone wants to friend me back? Will that start this awful email chain back and forth? What’s the harm in saying “hey, I’m a different person than I was my freshman year of college.” Or do I have to say anything, really? Who knows.

I am starting to let go of some close friends—unintentionally. I’m not sure if they’ll come back or if I’ll go back to them. I know friendships evolve and pull apart naturally. But I’ve seen some strong ones get pulled apart and I’m left in the middle, unsure of where to navigate. So much of the relationship I had with these folks involves the friends we no longer share. That turns the dynamics of the relationship around.

Perhaps it could do me some good to be more conscious of letting go and simplifying.

I hold in a lot of tension, thoughts, stuff.

More than anything, this prompt makes me think about just how much I can afford to let more stuff go. This is contributing to the theme of the year: WANDERING.

Wonder

December 4 – Wonder.

How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year?

I went to a few concerts this year, and that has been a great place for wonder. Watching and listening to people who are extremely comfortable in their own skin is a fascinating thing.

I saw quite a bit of theatre (when I could). There were some incredible productions (I’m mainly thinking of Brief Encounter, The Scottsboro Boys, and La Bete most notably).

Taking a drive in the bluffs springs about wonder quite often.

Pet sitting. Cats and dogs are awesome.

I’m sure this question deserves more thought and care, but I’m going to keep moving along.

MOMENT

This is a post that's part of the Reverb 10 project. I'm still playing catchup.

December 3 – Moment.

Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors).

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This is probably not for the faint of heart.

I'd avoid it if you are a bit of a hypochondriac and can't read about food poisoning. But it was one of the more humbling and intense moments that I can recall this year (there are some others, but this is most vivid; it helps that it happened just over a week ago). I’m probably sharing this against my better judgment, but this moment (once I get to it) was striking.

Read at your own risk, I guess.

The wafts of banana bread baking made me more nauseous than I can ever remember. My head ached. I went to bed early. Peeled the contacts away from my eyes. Put on long flannel pants, curled into bed with more than three blankets. I didn’t realize just how feverish I felt.

My head pounded just softly. We’re talking like a mild, constant bounce from a soft timpani mallet.

Remnants of A Bug’s Life movie are sounding from the living room downstairs. General clanks and clatter from my roommate cleaning up in the kitchen.

I dare not inhale from my nose for fear of tasting the banana bread air. Thing is: I generally love banana bread, but it’s too sweet this time around.

I entered into a strange dreamstate of not sleeping, but not being fully awake. I felt sick. A pit began to swell in my stomach. I was getting sick and didn’t know what to do.

This dreamstate lingers for 90 minutes. I don’t know if I ever fell asleep. You toss and turn in this void.

Suddenly, I feel it coming. I waver and wonder when I’m going to get out of bed.  I wince at the thought of what is going to come next, and at the same time, I realize it’s a necessary evil. The thought of just kneeling by the toilet and waiting is too excruciating. And there is NO WAY I’m going to make myself puke. So I wait until I know for certain it’s going to happen. Awful as it is, the only bit of hope I grasp is the fact that I’ll feel better when it’s over. One can only hope.

And I puke. I puke out an entire Chicken Burrito Bowl from Chipotle (complete with guac and chips). And in that mix is a Caramel Brluee Latte. It all comes back into the toilet. I could really describe this in graphic detail, but it’s already starting to give me a headache. And the puking isn’t the point of this entry. The moment I really want to recount is once it’s over.

I struggle to stand. My legs are shaking. I reach for the sink and cup my hands to rinse my face off.

I look into the mirror. It’s a fuzzy resolution. I’m not wearing glasses (for extreme fear they’d fall in the toilet). Drops of water remain in my goatee. There’s a repulsive taste in my mouth. I’m parched and want to gulp gallons of water.

Back to the mirror. I look as if I’m wearing makeup in a Tim Burton film. It’s red around my eyes and a vacuum has sucked the color from the rest of my face. I’m wiped out. A cold sweat appears across my brow. I shiver even though I can feel an unreasonable amount of heat and dampness in my armpits. It’s silent. The whole house is sleeping (unless they’ve woken up from my retching, which is entirely possible). Heavy, slow breaths. The heart blipping against my chest.

Tears well up in my eyes.

I seem to remember the corners of my mouth turning up. I’m smirking. Perhaps a small chortle resounded.

I feel ridiculously alive—vulnerable and tiny, yet alive and grand.

I don’t know that I can even do this moment any justice. But there is this really, remarkable sense of feeling that I am human at this moment of looking myself in the mirror. Seeing a self who has just gone through painful and rather humiliating act. I felt a bit like an animal down on the floor, hugging that porcelain. But I struggled back up to stand. And then I think about tough, emotionless, collected exterior. I know that armor can’t last forever and this vomiting was a kind of way to flush all that self-sufficient righteousness away, leaving me human and just alive.

This is a riveting and humbling notion.

Writing

December 2 - Writing.
What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it?

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I make up excuses.
I think that I don't have time.
I write too many emails or copy for work (which isn't the kind of writing I think this question is asking).
It's hard to justify spreading my talents, efforts, time, hobbies too thin (I have enough trouble working on being an actor...blah, blah, blah: I can't buy that excuse even for a dollar, but it is a real, lingering doubt).


I struggle with the notion that I consider myself to be a writer. I don't even know what that means. I've pumped out essays, creative nonfiction, fiction, poetry, and even started a play. That was almost always for coursework in college. Thing is: I loved it (usually). But since graduating, I haven't committed to being a writer. And at the same time, I always say that I would like to be one (doesn't everyone?).

If that is truly the case, I suppose I should start writing everyday.

Today I wrote an email. It was a blast. It was tongue-in-cheek to the staff of the company I work at. I'm not quite sure that everyone appreciated it. In fact, it kind of spun the world into oblivion for an hour. But in any case, I had so much fun writing it. I felt the creative juices flowing again. There was a need to communicate and entertain with words.

I'm a bit irritated that this prompt has me swerving between feeling guilty about not writing and feeling completely content about doing what I choose.

But the bottom line is: if I'm going to say that I'm a writer, then I should write.

I'm not talking about making money or anything (would be nice, but it's a far, far shot). I'm just talking about writing. Whether it be a blog post, or even just journaling and working something out for my head.

At the same time, I probably do write via text, Twitter, email, or Facebook status everyday  (not all of them daily, but pretty close, I'd imagine). Does that sound lame? Maybe to some, but it IS communication and it is writing and it is a creative act.

I think the real answer to this question is the on-going battle in my head.

I'm only working with the first part of this prompt.

Is the next step to commit to something?

My hope is to complete this Reverb 10 project. I have a lot of catch up to do. But I'm working on it, and it's been a great benefit already. Once that's done, I think I may brainstorm a list of topics to write about. They are swirling around in my head.

WANDERING | FOCUS

I'm participating in the Reverb 10 project.

I want to write more. Figured this would be a great way to do so.

The first day's prompt (I'll be playing catchup, no doubt for a bit here):

December 1 - One Word.
Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?

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As of December 6, 2010 at 12:45 a.m., I’ve determined that WANDERING is 2010 in one word.

I thought of others, but they are all kind of specific to my current state (which right now is exhausted). But it’s difficult to think about the rest of the year. I need to kick it into gear if I continue through this project. And that’s the thing: my mind wanders.

I also wandered to Chicago and back in February for my first attempt at grad school auditions. I meandered through those knowing it was for the experience and figuring out what I need. I’ve got a greater sense of what that is.

I wandered from one extreme role to another in terms of acting.

I’ve wandered back and forth from this tiny town to the bigger Cities.

I’ve kind of been wandering to and fro from some friends (for better or worse).

Given my age, I’m in the midst of prime wandering times.

Yeah, things are a bit aimless when you think about this word. This isn’t to say that my life hasn’t had any structure or rooting. But it’s been a bit unfocused—more than I’d like to admit, I think.

My inability to articulate things is frustrating. I’d like to take a stronger grasp on definition and clarity for 2011. That leads me to the word I’d love to say for 2011 come this time next year: FOCUS

That word suggests something less elusive. I aim to hone on what I’m doing and give it the proper attention and devotion it may deserve, whether that’s office work or rehearsal or auditioning.

This isn’t to say that 2010 has been a gobbledygook wash. But I just can’t put my finger on this year as a whole. If I weren’t so deprived of sleep and had other work to do, I think I’d be able to do a better job at recalling the triumphs and trials. But at the moment, it’s hard for me to pinpoint and major highlights or lows.

To generalize, I suppose we have a fixation about crafting labels and categorizing them—especially this time of year. Usually, I resist that kind of classification. I don’t think this year has been any better or worse than 2009.  But with more careful FOCUS, this kind of nebulous, airy nature may disappear. In its place, something more concrete and absolute may appear. Of course, I don’t want it to fall prey to rigidity. That wouldn’t be good either.

Egad, this whole post is WANDERING!

I feel like I'm back in college

I am wiped out.

"You had a really rough week, Tim," a co-worker told me.

I didn't even consider that, but it's true. Some people are really good at declaring if something is the worst day/month/year ever. They do it all the time on Facebook. I usually ignore those assertions, because they are, at best/worst, hyperbolic.

But it was a rough week. My worst ever? It's hard to tell, and I don't like claiming those kind of final stamps on anything.

At the same time, it's been a good week tempered with some pretty horrible bits:

I had food poisoning, which put everything in my life on hold for a good 2 1/2 days. It was awful. Truly awful.

Then, on my way to the Andrew Bird concert at First Ave in Minneapolis, I was rear-ended on the interstate. The catch is that I was driving my parents' new car. I won't explain all the details of the circumstance, but it was a trying time.

The next day, I drove throughout the Twin Cities in the cruddy winter storm. One of those storms where it takes people triple the amount of time it would normally take to get anywhere. I drove back to Lanesboro the following morning, and that was tricky to navigate the roads (they weren't too bad, but it was tougher than usual).

Great thing though: meeting up with some college friends and professors at the Christmas Concert. Oh boy, that was a wonderfully meditative concert.

On top of that I've been scurrying to learn the songs "Baby, It's Cold Outside" and "I'd Give It All For You" that I sang with another co-worker for a holiday dinner dance. That was stressful to juggle for more reasons than I care to admit.

All that's over now. Whew. I can rest, right?

Don't think so.

Here's what I've got going on next:

• Lead two sessions on Facebook:
• Facebook for beginners (tomorrow)
• Facebook pages for businesses (Tuesday)
• Have an "artistic evaluation/check-in" with the artistic director (tomorrow)
• We'll be discussing my work in the past year and the continued work for 2011
• Attend the final class for "Power Auditions" (tomorrow night)
• I can't believe I haven't been blogging about this. Perhaps I will summarize it one of these days. But we all know that's a likely empty promise. You never know though.
•  Business as usual
• Continue marketing work and normal duties at the theatre (it's a busy, busy season; we're selling season passes and large crowds are coming to see Little Women)
• Grad School Preparation
• I've got to arrange for some more private auditions. I've gotten a bit behind on this work, but it has been steady through the fall so far, so I'm not too concerned about it.

I made a to do list last week and it freaked me out how all over the place it had become. I usually make lists for work and that keeps me on track (mostly), but this particular one was reminiscent of college. Not only were there the regular coursework lists, but I had extra-curricular duties among other odds and ends that appeared. For the first time since graduating (in May 2009), I feel like I'm back there.

So what am I doing instead of this work and prep? Writing on this silly thing.

I just came across an interesting project called Reverb 10. This is a website project devoted to the month of December that gives voice to the reverberations a person has felt during this year. It also calls forth to the possible reverberations one may continue to have in 2011. I want to participate. I may use this blog as a platform (we shall see).

I've had a dearth of writing lately all year, and this seems like an excellent project. But if I don't start now, I'll never catch up. Here is a list of the prompts so far. They get you thinking. I hope to do at least one entry tonight amidst all the chaos. But I also want to lie on the couch and watch Elf.

Wish me luck.

5 Things

1. We're nearing the end of 2010
2. I'm taking a weekly auditions class. After the first day, I accumulated of manageable to-dos with my resume and monologue prep. It's awesome.
3. Last night I worked on a brand-new monologue (to me) from Love's Labour's Lost. I kinda got my butt kicked, but in a good way. I've got a lot of work to do with that and applying similar techniques to alternate monologues. It was hard work last night, but I think I made some breakthroughs.
4. I think I'm going to get a website. I was going to wait until next spring, but I've got the time, so I may as well dive in.
5. I went to New York City last week and saw:

• La Bete (probably my favorite; I'm such a fan of Mark Rylance, no matter what anyone says)
• Brief Encounter (I had actually seen this at the Guthrie in the spring. It was a slightly different cast, still magical theatre, but all of the surprises were spoiled for me a second time around)
• A Little Night Music (the actor playing Petra was excellent)
• Carmen at the Metropolitan Opera (engaging, ACTIVE production, even from the standing-room only in the last row)

I visited NYC a few years ago and was completely blown away with Broadway. When I returned this year, I still loved it, but it doesn't seem like this mystical, intangible possibility. I want to make sure you all realize that Broadway is not the be-all-end-all for me as an actor. It's not a way to measure "success." What I'm trying to say is that I can sense that that kind of work it's in my grasp (as is other gigs). It's a hard realization to describe (and I also don't want this to come off as conceited or anything). It may never happen, but I think it could someday. I mean, really could.