I had my first formal acting audition today for the Fall semester plays, and it was way rough. But I’ve been looking and thinking back, kind of pushing aside the errors to look at myself in that frame of 10 minutes or less. I went in, anxious mess, hadn’t foreseen the need to take my anxiety pills so I was absolutely shaking when I got in front of the judges. I knew most of them, they’re nice people and all. But just the situation made me terrified. I am not exaggerating when I say I was shaking; my neck and my legs were tensely quivering and my hand was gripping the hem of my shirt for dear life. I made the largest mistake by rambling about how nervous I was and everything, which I could tell really put the judges off (oops. I’m still learning but that’s still a bad move on my part). So they told me to go stand in the center of the room on the ‘X’ and start my prepared monologue when I was ready. I turned around, closed my eyes and took a few breaths. I knew this. I’d practiced this play, though not necessarily this character, for months as a high school production. I quickly reminded myself the first few words, turned back to face them And suddenly I didn’t feel as nervous any more. This happens every time I act. I suddenly don’t feel overwhelmed. My chest loosens and my hand as well. It’s a sad monologue, I gesticulate a little so my arms don’t do that noodly thing they do when I don’t know what to do with them. But I feel so much better in that one minute than I had in the past few hours. I never understood why acting gave me such relief when speaking in public scares most people to death. I was often given the “you’re playing a person that isn’t you, so it’s easier” and it always made me uncomfortable. Did that mean I didn’t like being myself loudly? No. I am introverted and sometimes overcome with anxiety in social situations, but eventually I just do what feels right and people either like it or don’t. Surprisingly a lot of people do. If I wanted to wear face-paint into school one day, I’d do it and feel so comfortable and like myself. If I didn’t, well I was still good with it. I say weird things, I don’t think before I talk, I’m awkwardly honest and I can be a bit of a know-it-all. That’s one side of me. Another side of me is the me that starts shaking and crying when someone tries to get me to make a phone call. The side of me that won’t speak up in class if no one else is because I’m scared. The side of me that doesn’t talk to strangers and stays in my space and rambles to no one on tumblr. That’s just as much me as the outgoing, prom queen side. So it really bothers me when my comfort on stage is attributed to me not being myself but someone else. I’ve had identity crises before about my characters I make up and in the few plays I’ve been significantly in the past couple years. Because being the character feels just as right as it does going to drama fest and laughing way too loud or painting whiskers on my face or making chewbacca noises when I’m distressed. But tonight, just a little while ago, I think I finally made some sense to myself. What if acting feels so freeing to me because it’s a splinter of myself, just like my inner characters and my overlapping but separate selves in my own head? It feels natural to me to start identifying with my characters; as Damien in Freak I felt good being in a freak show of kids who had ended their own lives, as Aunt Dolly in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes I felt natural being a proclamatory feminist woman. This was before I was so outspoken about feminist social issues. And I guess part of the reason I started being so loud about it was because theatre gave me a kickboard to go off of. I feel like Damien and Aunt Dolly are parts of me, some bits of “I wish I could be” and some bits of “this is who I am inside”. It almost feels bad to dissociate them from my own consciousness, to say that they’re “playing someone who isn’t me, which makes it less stressful”. I dunno. Acting, even if I’m not particularly the best compared to the other students here, just feels natural and cathartic and magic. Afterwards, my heart races again and my hands start to shake and I feel like crying a bit, but during that time in that room when I said my monologue, I was fine. Sure, I felt the pain in the monologue, but deep in my soul I wasn’t trembling or feeling ill. I was Monique for those few seconds and Monique was a splinter of my own consciousness. Or maybe I’m just crazy.
Posted on: Fri, 30 Aug 2013 02:11:46 +0000
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