I am flawed. I am not perfect. In fact, I am so far from perfect it is disheartening at times.
I try really hard every single day to be better. I fail most days.
After every play I have been in since college, I have thanked the director for the opportunity they gave me and I have asked them for advice on what to work on to improve. (I email, I don’t put them on the spot- face to face.) Only twice have I gotten anyone to be real and tell me things to work on. One person gave me a couple of practical, to the point pieces of advice. The other told me I had improved so much since the first time we had worked together that his advice was to keep on that track. I completely appreciated both artists sharing their thoughts. But I know I need to improve a lot more than that. So either people don’t want to give me advice on being better (unless they are angry and then they take delight in pointing out every flaw they perceive) or I am beyond hope.
I know I am not a great actress, I am only a mediocre to “eh” singer, but you won’t find a harder worker. And acting and singing fills my soul.
I am not really comfortable writing reviews or critiques or judging contests. (I do love watching plays and when I judge kids’ theatre competitions, I love to bolster them up and give them any constructive pointers I can.) I do know what theatre should look like, at least to my trained eyes, but who am I??
I love to debate. I think I loved going back to school because so many young people (and that includes professors, because so many of them were way younger than me) wanted to discuss everything- art, politics, religion, our life struggles.
Sometimes I debate on a side that I’m not even really on, just to keep a good discussion going. I feel that if you can not defend your opinion to me, maybe you should think on it some more. If you can defend it, then I’ll respect what you have to say, although I might keep arguing! If you don’t wimp out too soon, you might even change my mind. (But I’ll keep challenging you!)
If having deep discussions makes you uncomfortable, we can talk about something benign. That isn’t as much fun. If we have a discussion and we disagree, my hope would be that afterwards we would shake hands and continue on. That is how I feel the world should work. My husband and I disagree on several issues, so he thinks his way and I think mine. Occasionally we “discuss.” It works.
If you are going to lose your mind and storm off, then, well then I guess you have to do what you feel. The world seems to be coming to that way of dealing with things more and more. Maybe we need to just talk about the weather or what you had for breakfast. If that is all you’ve got, don’t expect me to start that discussion, though.
I talk and write a lot about me. They tell you to “write what you know.” As much as I study and read, all I really know much about is me. I’m a work in progress, I change constantly. What I write today, I might contradict tomorrow. I have strong convictions rooted in the quick sand of constant study, growth and outside influence.
Too often I have asked others seemingly innocent questions that hit an unseen nerve. So I tend to share my open book of a life until others know me well enough to realize they can do the same and then I can listen. I don’t ask many direct, personal questions anymore. Even a typical question like, “How do you like your job?” recently set someone on a path of breaking down and telling me more than I think they wanted to about their personal life.
If you tell me it is a secret, it will stay a secret, for as long as you say. Forever if necessary. (Unless I see the information on Facebook, then all bets are off!) If it isn’t a secret, or it’s about me, I might share it because I do like to talk. Only with my closest friends am I comfortable with a lot of total silence.
I am sensitive and I know it and yet I have let certain people hurt me over and over and over and over, hoping against hope that friendships can again be salvaged. It doesn’t always work out that way.
I clean too much, worry too much, shop too much, rearrange my furniture too much.
I try to learn lessons from every experience, but it is rarely the lesson everyone expects.
I pray unceasingly, yet doubt constantly.
After nearly 60 years of life, I know very little. I love to learn and yet somehow I never do. I’ve made huge mistakes, constantly make little ones and rarely have any idea what to do moving forward in life.
Fortunately, my husband and son love me through all of my faults and I have a small, but powerful group of real friends.
I’ve enjoyed the people I’ve met being a theatre critic, I enjoy the notoriety of the job. I think it has about run it’s course though. Like I said earlier, judging people makes me nervous.
I don’t think I can stop writing though. My blog is all about me, I know- it is what I know. Writing fills my soul like acting and singing does.
Overall, I guess I am a mess. Life is messy, love is messy. I often think I’ll just stay home and become a recluse body builder. But every time I think that, I get tempted back into the world where my string of mistakes continues.
Full disclosure- the future terrifies me. I went on vacation last week and contemplated shutting the door to my bedroom and crying for the whole week. The world breaks my heart. All of the anger, the division, the quick tempers, the lack of tolerance, the shootings, the hate. It all just breaks my heart day after day after day. I just wanted to hide and cry.
But the lure of the sun, sand, and ocean, my place to connect with God and myself, was too strong.
So I ventured out, alternating between hiding under the umbrella and standing in the water under the full, dangerous sunshine. Just like life.
And like life, the waves sometimes knock you down, sometimes you have to run from the sharks, sometimes the water is calm, the wildlife swimming by under the sea is amazing and you get tan, right before a wave knocks you down again.
My only hope is that we all keep finding a way to get back up, turn our face towards the sun and carry on.
