meisner - 2.11 & 2.12

sunday's class: i have nothing much to report. i was in bed most of the day feeling not quite sick but so much under the weather i almost didn't go to class. but you miss a lot if you skip even one day and i've already feel the loss of one class this quarter. final verdict: even if it meant i would spend the whole time wrapped up in a blanket just watching, i needed to go. turns out, most of the class felt the same way, so needless to say, it was a mellow class. i just watched. we ended early. fin.

tuesday's class: i am still at the breaking point from overexposure. letting too much out. revealing too much of what i want. it makes me tumultuous and violent internally and it's accompanied by the feeling of being so vulnerable my heart feels like someone has taken sandpaper to its surface.

and here is why.

the vulnerability comes from desire.
well, having desire + letting people in on what that desire is.
then imagining triumph.
imagining getting this desire.
but not just getting it fulfilled, but living it to the upteenth degree. fairy tale ending and all.
living into that in my self and in front of class.

then coming out on the other side.
without it.

and now the whole class sees what i want.
where i want to go.
and they see the fact that i don't have it.
and that it's really quite foolish of me to even dream that high.
a factoid about me: if i don't have something i want, i somehow believe then i didn't deserve it.

they must be thinking:
tom tykwer?
thom yorke?
filming in europe?
wake up, nathania.
wake up.

.............................................................


an hour or two later and i am still violent internally. raging violence. anger at the "reality" of the situation. reality of the statistics. the dreams that so many others have. of making films. yes, i said it. damn it. i fucking said it. in front of you. the silent listeners. it's here. in these words: making films. being in films.

and my violence rages more and i just want to say: fuck you. fuck you all for seeing me. for the judgment i know you have. the words you share. the words you're thinking. that's sad. they were meant well, but a cut still bleeds even though it wasn't said with sharp edges. even though it was said from lips that otherwise love oh so softly.

so what if i move to new york and continue taking classes or go into more debt for more schooling i won't use on the other side. so what? what other option do i have? i have to do this. i have to. i have been telling people since kindergarten that this is what i would do {not wanted to do, but absolutely no question about it would do}. and after forgetting for the middling years of childhood, i had this crystal clear moment lying on the floor of our apartment in everett when i realized i wanted to act. the realization hit me when i was journaling {i think i could even find the moment i paused in writing to have the thought}. and the last puzzle piece was laid in place and an entire picture surfaced before me. there was no question in my mind this is what i would do. and not just do, but do well. and it arrived without any fight. any tumult. just a quiet and peaceful certainty and confidence.

so in the words of elizabeth gilbert {see a few posts down}, it's not my job to judge whether or not i'm good. whether or not i can or will make the kind of art i aspire to make {life changing, soul/world stirring art}. it's my job to show up and do the work. every day. and that's all i can do. the rest is up the gods of genius and the gods of kismet and whatever they choose to offer.

but there's more: the other work for me is getting to the place where i can live my dream fully. envision it. tastesmellhearhearttouch it. welcome it. open myself up to the possibilities and the opportunities and the hope and the faith. and. and.

and.

most importantly:
maintain a sense of purpose and self worth that is not dependent on whether or not they come to fruition.

that's the real work.

and in some way, that's the most terrifying. letting go of my attachment to the outcome. because somehow i feel like the only thing that will make it happen is the strength with which i am pulling myself toward it. but i know that's not true. that this "strength" is really fear dancing around me in circles. what will i be if i'm just another person with failed dreams? what will it mean if i don't get this? that i'm not as good as the other people who did? the options are bleak and the answers tell me convincing lies.

i want to rewrite that part.
give myself a different ending{s}.
but i'm only at the beginning.
of giving voice to these thoughts/desires/etc.
and i'm here, cautiously peering around the corner of my despair because of class.
the seal has been broken.

so welcome into the single most vulnerable part of my human being story.
we finally stand before you
273 posts and nearly 8 months later
naked and {mostly} unapologetic.
cellulite and stretchmarks exposed.
and i have no idea where we'll go next.


currently listening to: ahuvati - kaki king {on repeat}.