2 September 2011

Happy Friday: something that inspired me

I just read that and it spoke right to my heart: it's a post from : with love from pittsburgh

Last night, after I went to see a movie {note to self: don't go see Friends with Benefits when you're currently missing the love of your life}, I came home, sat on the couch in my underwear, devoured a piece of Oreo Cookie cake and studied my lines until almost midnight. I managed to learn about a page and a half, which is a pretty good start, considering we haven't even really started on-stage rehearsals yet {that comes next week}. This weekend I'm going to get serious. I have nothing else planned. Just me, my couch, my script, and maybe some more Oreo Cookie cake. Or at least some black cherry bourbon.
I'm excited about this show, about getting back on stage again where I have always felt a serenity, a peace, a freeing sensation. Maybe it's the escape from the real world. Maybe it's the hours away from the hard stuff of life. Maybe it's learning about a character's life and seeing the duplicity within it. Whatever it is, it's healing for me. I'm thankful I don't really get stage fright. I'm thankful that I can get up in front of people and do things. And once those lights hit, their heat radiating into my skin, my heart starts to pump true life through me. The warmth of those lights and the wall of darkness on the other side of them--the audience--makes me feel like I'm in a cocoon, where all is safe and in my control. 
It's kind of weird, actually. I think that in my real life, when I'm not on stage, I carry within me all the hurt and burdens and aching of my life. But when I get on stage, I have permission to let it all go. To channel it through the life of a character. To release those burdens that weigh down my heart. I can scream on stage. I can yell. I can raise my voice. I can cry. I can stomp and run and push and shove and grab and cling. {I will have to do all of those things in this show, and, quite frankly, I'm looking forward to the catharsis.}
I spend my lunch hour learning my lines. I sit outside in front of my building and I nibble, recite, nibble, recite, lather, rinse, repeat. And it feels so normal to me. So authentic. {How ironic that I feel authentic when I'm pretending to be someone else. What does that say about me? My life? My heart?} Both food and words sustain me, each in different ways.

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