"- don't be so quick to knock it. People don't usually part with the weird shit they personally know because they know how easy it will be to punch holes in. Now I'm tellin you somethin. It's for you to poke through the soup and find the meat." John Patrick Shanley's 'the dreamer examines his pillow'

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

in light

Before all these acting classes, I had always thought of myself as a pretty moderate person when it came to emotions. I tried to keep them under control, for better or worse. I thought I was different from those who lash out, those who say “I’m in love” two weeks into a relationship, those who need to lean heavily and often on others because they can’t handle life on their own.

I am not different.

I have to admit, it’s hard going to class every day and hearing “Where are you today? Tell us how you’re feeling. How do you as the character want to respond to that?” We become so self-aware, it can become hindering in every day life. We’re taught to be hyper-aware of what’s going on in our bodies and emotions so that, hopefully, we’ll be able to give convincing, unpredictable performances. But in life it’s important to turn that awareness off sometimes, even if it’s just to get homework done.

Moderation in passions must be a good thing. To know what to be passionate about, and to allow it to fly full blown into the world, I say that is good. But to be randomly passionate, to respond to every tickling of my spirit with a cry, can not be good for myself, as I will lose a sense of self-control and priorities, and because one of the heart’s deepest cries is to be understood, and how can anyone attempt to – and why would anyone care to - understand a heart full of meaningless passions? Which certainly must be a contradiction; I’ve always thought of a passion as something of a noble thing, so to have one or many that are meaningless must mean they are no longer passions. They must have become self-indulgent. The kind of passion I want is focused on the outside world, toward an art or a person or idea. The wild emotion I speak of is focused entirely on self. And it can not be good for the world around me, for how can anything that’s in the habit of imploding possibly be of any use to anything outside itself?

But aside from all that thought, it is so beautiful outside, the air must be porcelain, and the trees made of fine glass and woven silk… I wish you could see it.

5 Comments:

Blogger Jennifer said...

oh my gosh, i'm really glad you have internet in your room now. :)

8:01 PM

 
Blogger kirsten said...

I wish I could see it, too!

8:53 PM

 
Blogger Neilio Wongizzle said...

t-minus 3 hours till i see you. YAY for ohio love!

11:20 AM

 
Blogger Michelle said...

I will not be seeing you in 3 hours. However, I think that if I ever had a kitty, I would name it Elizabeth, and then I could sing to it. And I would make it swallow a music box, so whenever it purred, it would sing "Miiichelle... my belle". And you will have been REPLACED!! Plus, you don't fit in a nice little cary-on cage. But I sure wish you did :)

11:01 PM

 
Blogger hillary said...

hey. i am sad i never got to see you. but, thank god for internet i guess.
i know what you mean about being really aware. in dance, and now especailly modern dance you are taught to have extreme awareness internally and externally. I am already sensitive to my outside environment. This total conciousness can make me act...crazy. or crazed. like the world is too much. everything is so much! When really you just have to step back and relax. chill.
or something of that sort. but i know what you mean and am glad you posted about it. you are not alone in your struggle (as you may know ;).
Side note: Utah does Fall very very nicely...

7:15 PM

 

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