its snowing.

as I said, last night I had my first callback here.
I felt cool. really cool. sitting in that room with all those upperclassmen. We walked around the room and greeted each other and at first I awkwardly shook hands with everyone feeling self conscious. Then I realized, I had as much right to be there as all of them did.
I was sure that I needed to be there. after doing scenes for ten minutes I knew I had to be there.
All of the sudden, I was on the mainstage reading for a part that was the complete opposite of me. I ruled. I was better in those twenty minutes than I had been in a long time. The only problem, I was reading with someone that clearly didn't want to be doing a love scene with me. we were reading for the two most grounded characters in the show and yet he was playing it CRAZY.
Callbacks are a funny thing. They're all about timing. What if I hadn't read with him? What if I read with someone else. What if he gets cast because they were better friends and had better chemistry?
But I shouldn't focus on the fact he didn't help me at all. I did well. I wouldn't have changed anything.

the problem now is,
I just want more.
is it possible to have an addiction to acting?

but its snowing.

but i hate being a freshman at this moment.
I wish I wasn't.
I wish I had some street cred here.

hfjdlsgj;osijwrklsdf;fds;k

AHHHH!
FIRST CALL BACK AT SOUTHERN OREGON UNIVERSITY IN LESS THAN AN HOUR.
I SHOULD GET DRESSED, I SHOULD READ MY SIDES, I SHOULD STOP WRITING IN ALL CAPS!



I hope hope hope hope hope.

cute text from my mom:
Give them no choice! xoxoxoxoxo

Mom. I'm going to kill it.

yes and...

first of all, why am I awake? its seven am.

Yesterday I spent most of the day in the library attempting to find meaning in my research paper. The funny thing is, if it wasn't in stupid MLA format and you know...in RESEARCH form I could write about my topic for days. I know its a requirement, but in all honesty, it doesn't do anything for me academically. Plus, I wasn't taught how to write an effective research paper....ever.
You know, high school didn't teach me anything. Literally. nothing. I know that I've ranted about this before but really, looking at it now, THATS A PROBLEM. perhaps it was my fault. My focus was always social. it was always on getting cast [which it probably shouldn't have been because that turned out to be a joke too.]
Seriously though. the way education is going is down, down a bad bad bad BAD dark hole.
Apparently, as early as elementary school, they have teachers reading scripts out of books to teach Math and English. I mean, SERIOUSLY? that is creating a system of children growing up resenting education BECAUSE IT PUTS THEM TO SLEEP.
If I were to count the number of truly inspiring teachers who have shaped me as a person from elementary school, middle school, AND high school, I do believe the number would be four.
FOUR.
My research topic is how improv, specifically the teachings of Viola Spolin shape human behavior and should be utilized by everyone, not just actors.
Improv has taught me everything about myself. Because of improv I am becoming the kind of actor I want to be and because of improv I am becoming the person I want to be. I wish I could just write an eight page love letter to improv rather than finding evidence and all that bull. evidence dehumanizes what I really want to say about improv.

I felt this overwhelming urge to stand up and scream in the silent busy library. Right in time I got a text from a friend using the mainstage to rehearse his pieces for auditions.
Whenever I enter a theatre, I always take a deep breath, as if to smell the theatre, swallow it whole. Strange I know. Its just a habit I've never been able to shake, nor do I want to. Its comforting.
He and another actor were there already working on pieces.
I wasn't even going to do my monologues. I just needed to get out of the silence and hear people talk, watch people create. But I stood on the stage and did my pieces, the same spot I would be standing in two days. They both gave me very helpful notes. An outsiders prospective is always helpful. They were both good. I mean, really good. Older, had already taken class here and I appreciated them listening to me.
The other actor left to write a paper [probably in STUPID MLA format] but the other asked me to hang back. I got all freaked out. Didn't know why or what he was going to say. We sat on the stage and he said, "so how come I didn't know you were such a great actor?"
"uh, what?"
"I envy how natural you are"
"um. well, thanks" I didn't know what to say. I don't always know what to do with positive feedback. "Its all about the improv man. it taught me everything I know"
As I walked back to the library to face the six more pages I needed to bullshit, I got all emotional.
Improv has truly changed my life. It has changed my life in ways teachers haven't. It ultimately has been my greatest teacher.
Thanks Viola Spolin, Keith Johnstone, and especially Comedy Sportz.
I have a lot to learn still. A lot. I just want to learn it.

monster hands. hands monster.

I've decided I want to be friends with this monster. I feel like our friendship could be really beautiful. He has to hold his hands up to his eyes to see and I really need to take my hands off my eyes.

Today I have perfected the art of being productively unproductive. The sky has been gray all day, I need some California sun. But not in a "i need to get out of here" kind of way I just want to be sun burnt.



Audition is Tuesday.
I'm full of want.
that's all I should really say on the subject.

heres to tonight being fun
heres to drinking a bottle of captain.
[oh captain my captain]

I have eight arms too

I've decided that I'm just going to kick ass at everything I do.

from now on.

Its time I start getting the things I want. Because, in all seriousness, I've been "paying my dues" for nineteen years. I need to stop settling.

I am done settling.

I'm ready for everything. all at once.

STARTING NOW.

glow in the dark stars standing still

"moans are connected with not getting what you want right away"

This line hit me on Thursday night. I couldn't believe that I hadn't thought of it before.

On Sunday morning, I moaned. Well, more of a sigh.
but not in the way she meant in the monologue.
at all.

After a weekend of fulfilling performances and even more fulfilling conversations, on Sunday morning after not sleeping, and with my head spinning from the copious amount of champagne I drank at the toast, I drew the covers over my head as I heard the door shut and sighed a deep, fulfilled sigh.
We had a decent conversation.
The moan, or the sigh was deeply rooted in finally feeling heard. Rooted in performing in front of a sold out audience. Rooted in sitting on the bottom bunk, discussing expectations and how bizarre they truly are. Rooted in the beautiful things that group of women said at the toast. Rooted in the blissful innocence of falling next to someone at six in the morning. Rooted in not turning my back away.

Rooted in the way my heart leaps at the idea of possibility.

I'm so ready for so many things.

core of it

Creative writing assignment: Write about someone else. how they influence another character

He finished apples. That was the kind of person he was. I felt as though he was trying not to look at me. His quick glance lasted forever even though it happened so fast. He was focused on his apple, or at least he wanted to be. He wanted to not see me. Previously, he automatically would have thrust the apple in my general direction so I could take I bite out of it. I didn’t like finishing apples. I watched him take specific bites around the whole apple. He scratched his head and looked at the apple intently as if it was telling him what to think, what to feel. There was a little piece that somehow got in his hair. I would have laughed and shuffled over and pointed in a sly way but, not anymore. He could walk to his next class with that piece in his hair and have an acquaintance point it out awkwardly. I apparently lost the right to do that. Or, perhaps he doesn’t deserve it anymore. A slouching boy approached me and attempted to strike up a conversation but my eyes were on the apple. The core was visible on the side facing me. He was taunting me. Maybe he was unaware but it stung. It stung like nothing ever had. But it was an apple. The boy with the bad posture left and I made the decision. He was nearly done with the apple, about to pack up all of his books and move on with his day. “Hey. So…”

He looked up and his eyes that use to tell me everything were now replaced with cold, unavailable ones. “Yes?”

“Hope your apple exceeded your expectations today."

"It did."