mirror mirror on the wall,
please don't tell me anything at all....
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we've started a new exercise. a mini version of what my acting teacher did in her theater major called "the face breaker." her version lasted three hours compared to the fifteen? twenty? thirty? minutes we did of the below. but i'm getting ahead of myself. let me explain the drill.
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one {lucky} student stands in front of the rest of the class. the class, facing the student, mirrors every they do. absolutely everything. each twitch, flutter, sigh, scream. and that's basically it.
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except for the major part.
except for the major part.
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as the single student, you start by throwing each impulse to shift or fidget or shy away back onto the mirror. this can come as a movement or shout directed at them. thrown at them. hurled at them. {and trust me, it feels really good to have somewhere to put all the discomfort of being looked at with 15 sets of eyes.}
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after a long warm up and being part of the mirror chorus for another student, i got up. already exhausted.
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and.
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robin coached me through the beginning part, encouraged me to say shut up or fuck you to them. i shouted with furor, thrashed their faces, and occasionally burst out laughing.
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and after this wind up of sorts, she started suggesting different things for me to live into for a few minutes: you're a can-can dancer. you're a can-can dancer with a really fancy skirt. you're a chimpanzee. you're a ninja about to go to battle. you're an opera singer. you're a pole dancer (yes, you read right). i remember thinking oh shit for a split second before going off with whatever came to mind including walking up to the mirror and grabbing my breasts then gesticulating to my underwear line and saying oh, oh yes, put the $100 bill right there. etc. etc. you're a lioness and something over there is threatening your cubs. you're a hooker working your corner. hey sugar, looking for a date? i'll give you a discount since it's after 3am. you pay half up front and half later. no, i won't let you pay all later. now a younger hooker is coming to steal your corner. bitch, what are you doing on my corner. i've been here since i kicked the last bitch off and you don't have anything on me. now she called you a cunt. cunt!?! you think you know what a cunt is? this is a cunt (i indicate my nether regions). all you have is a stinkin (perhaps i said sticky) HOLE! get her off your corner. do you know what i can do with this stiletto?!?! do you really want to know. you're a queen greeting thousands of her troops and you have one gesture to welcome them and acknowledge how much blood was spilled for you. now reach out both hands to welcome them. you're a basketball coach in the last two minutes of the championship game (i made it a girls' team). you're a jazz singer in a tighttighttight dress about to go out on stage. what? you don't know (insert evidently a really common jazz song)? okay, pick a love song? (i draw a complete blank on ANY song) from the audience: you know creep. okay. so i made creep into a love song. i stood in the spotlight. i could feel the darkness wrapped around me and my dress a sleek sheath to my body. and i belted this song like i haven't belted anything.
and after this wind up of sorts, she started suggesting different things for me to live into for a few minutes: you're a can-can dancer. you're a can-can dancer with a really fancy skirt. you're a chimpanzee. you're a ninja about to go to battle. you're an opera singer. you're a pole dancer (yes, you read right). i remember thinking oh shit for a split second before going off with whatever came to mind including walking up to the mirror and grabbing my breasts then gesticulating to my underwear line and saying oh, oh yes, put the $100 bill right there. etc. etc. you're a lioness and something over there is threatening your cubs. you're a hooker working your corner. hey sugar, looking for a date? i'll give you a discount since it's after 3am. you pay half up front and half later. no, i won't let you pay all later. now a younger hooker is coming to steal your corner. bitch, what are you doing on my corner. i've been here since i kicked the last bitch off and you don't have anything on me. now she called you a cunt. cunt!?! you think you know what a cunt is? this is a cunt (i indicate my nether regions). all you have is a stinkin (perhaps i said sticky) HOLE! get her off your corner. do you know what i can do with this stiletto?!?! do you really want to know. you're a queen greeting thousands of her troops and you have one gesture to welcome them and acknowledge how much blood was spilled for you. now reach out both hands to welcome them. you're a basketball coach in the last two minutes of the championship game (i made it a girls' team). you're a jazz singer in a tighttighttight dress about to go out on stage. what? you don't know (insert evidently a really common jazz song)? okay, pick a love song? (i draw a complete blank on ANY song) from the audience: you know creep. okay. so i made creep into a love song. i stood in the spotlight. i could feel the darkness wrapped around me and my dress a sleek sheath to my body. and i belted this song like i haven't belted anything.
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it was liberating, but we're not done.
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now picture a family you care about. with little children. you're standing in front of their shack and a bulldozer is about to come to destroy the house. fuck you! you wouldn't dare run me over. you know you'll go directly to jail and stay in jail for the rest of your life. these people deserve their home. who the hell are you to tell them what they can or cannot do. where they can or cannot live. tell them to stop. stop. Stop. STOP! please, stop. take your hand away. walk away. don't do this. please....i find someone in the audience to land this on. make them the driver. a body and soul to plead to. i hold my hands out to them for a long time in silence before she directs me onward.
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eventually the mirror drops out and just stands there receiving. i look each and every one in the eyes and tell them to take me seriously. i repeat it as many times as i need to until they take me seriously. but i realize quickly that i am carefully avoiding the eyes of the one person who i doubt the most. i work around them. find their neighbor's eyes. ask for their attention instead.
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take me seriously.
take me seriously.
take me seriously.
don't apologize, nathania.
take me seriously.
stand up tall, nathania. (i gain a few inches in height)
take me seriously.
take me seriously.
don't back off.
take me seriously.
are you getting what you want from them?
take me seriously.
i finally look at the one i'm avoiding. take me seriously. i see them guarded as always, but present with me. receiving me. but i am so used to doubting that they take me seriously, so i repeat. take me seriously. take me seriously. take me seriously. no change. take me seriously. they are unwavering. and gradually i realize they do take me seriously, albeit guardedly, but that's their story, not their doubt for me. i move on. thankful for the gift.
take me seriously.
take me seriously.
don't back off nathania.
take me seriously.
say "i'm an actor" instead.
i pause for a second choking on the very thought of such boldness.
i am an actor.
i am an actor.
i am an actor.
don't ask, tell them.
i am an actor.
i am tearing up. my voice is wavering.
i am an actor.
it's so hard to own this one part of me. the desire i have. to be acknowledged as such. to be seen as such.
i am an actor.
i am an actor.
i am an actor.
i am an actor.
i look into the eyes that tried to feed my dream a dry, unhopeful reality this weekend. their words were: that's sad. i repeat to them. i am an actor. i am an actor. i am an actor. i am an actor. and i realize i'm trying to convince myself. i tell myself: settle in. you know this.
i am an actor.
i am an actor.
i am an actor.
.
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okay, now pick a song.
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the first that comes to mind was a sunday smile that i had sung for class a few weeks ago. but this time she tells me to sing it to them, not for them. i start by looking into eva's eyes. they are welcoming. a good start.
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all i want is the best for our lives my dear.
i move to bill and the tears spill over the curve of my cheekbones and slide down my face.
and you know my wishes are sincere.
i move to az. voice wavering and more tears streaming.
what's to say
for the days
i cannot bear.
i move onward letting the grief so inherent in the song flow freely through me. a victory after checking the surge of emotional output last time i sang it in front of them.
a sunday smile
we wore it for a while.
i sing softly. almost to myself.
a cemetery mile
we paused and sang.
but trying my hardest to give each syllable to someone.
a sunday smile we wore it for a while.
i allow myself to be a gift.
a cemetery mile we paused and sang.
so simple and unadorned.
a sunday smile and we felt true.
my self. my voice. my presence.
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fin.
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we sat down and discussed. the presence i had. the vulnerability. the power. her gaze was relentless. it didn't back off or let up. another: stuff was flying out of her mouth. uncensored. a few chuckles. i know the feeling of vulnerability. of openness. i know the places i went were raw and true. and i am driven by my permission to just be, completely be in my imperfections and inelegance. i could be sensual because i wasn't afraid to look stupid. i couldn't look much stupider than jumping around like a chimp or trying to sing creep or opera (i think i sang figaro! figaro! FIGARO!!! for a bit on repeat and i know i held one note for a really long time). there was a lovely freedom to make mistakes and to look silly and this will be a powerful tool, i can tell. another student: the class got a lot of sexiness. i could live into my body, in part after sunday's class. bearing my torso, or most of it. less inhibitions. the one who i doubt their ability to take me seriously: that was really intense when you looked me in the eyes and kept repeating it. i felt bad. like you didn't believe me. but as you repeated it, you sank into it further. i didn't want to look away. i was worried i would disappoint you. and as you sank in, it meant more to me. i became vulnerable. thank you. what a gift.
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that was all i did, and it was a good class. one of the best, actually.
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currently listening to: a sunday smile (on repeat) - beirut
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