Maybe If I Blog My head Will Clear A Little

What is enough?

The dictionary defines it as "an adequate quantity or number; sufficiency"

That makes it sound like a positive thing.

But what if it's not. Why can't "enough" ever be enough?

Shouldn't the ugliness I bring upon myself be enough?

Shouldn't being pushed away from getting help be ENOUGH?

But no, it's not. Because enough is defined as a good thing, maybe? And neither of those are good things...?

Maybe I need positive motivation to get better. But what can I find, and where?

Why do I keep putting this off?

O college apps, we meet again.

So the current application pain I'm enduring is the application for the Macaulay Honors program at CUNY Queens. This is a major reach school and I doubt I'll get in, but there's always a chance I suppose. The problem is, I don't know if I want to get in. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the program, it's free. Meaning if by some chance I get in, my parents are more or less going to force me to "give it a try."

But I know nothing about the school. More importantly, I know nothing about their arts programs! And now that I finally decided I want to study some sort of theatre in college, I don't want that choice taken away from me by the lure of free college. I know that's kind of immature of me being the state of the current economy, but I still feel this way. I have friends who go there that I can ask about it, but I get scared to finish my application.

What if?

11/23 Workshop

Today we presented out monologues as if we were going on an audition as in "Hello my name is Nicole and I'll be performing a monologue from X by Y. I'll be portraying character Z." This was really nerve wracking. One of my notes was that my voice was a bit shaky and I shouldn't have been so nervous because it wasn't a real audition so...I don't know. I think I really want to impress Joy.

I just wrote "I just really want..." before remembering something both Luke and Joy have said; in acting and in life, nothing is ever "just" it is always something important.

We also talked about the idea of "everything happens for a reason" or in this case "every part happens or doesn't happen for a reason." This is something I'm still trying to wrap my head around. I mean talking about it with Megan and Becky on the way home, it made perfect sense. All 3 of us had an example of this. But then the big rock hit me. And it's hard to talk about without sounding needy. But anyone who knows me can figure out what I'm talking about. And it still hurts. Pathetic right? So trying to believe that is really really hard.

Words

Words. Wordswordswordswordswords.

Words hurt. a lot.

think before you speak. please

I don't get it. Why are people so dumb.

I guess this is why writing's so powerful.

Why do I take everything so personally?

Why can't I accept "that's not what he meant"?

It shouldn't be this hard.

This is ridiculous.

I am ridiculous.

People are ridiculous.

This doesn't make sense.

But where else can I vent?

The Dining Room and The Future

So as some of you know, I was prop manager/co-stage manager for Herricks' production of The Dining Room. Wow, what an experience. As some of you know i'm a bit of a control freak (not in the power-hungry way but in the I like being in control way) so this was interesting. But overall, I think I did a pretty good job. Props went out on time and the actors got their cues and backstage was relatively organized. And of course, the actors did a great job.

I think the most important thing I learned throughout this process is that if in the future i'm not involved in theatre in one way or another, I won't be happy. I prefer onstage, but being backstage is rather satisfying. Thus, i'm looking into programs in colleges that have "dramatic studies," a much broader approach to theatre, until I decide what exactly I want to do with my life. Hey, I made a decision. The apocalypse must be coming! But in all seriousness, I am proud of myself for coming to a conclusion.

Friday

Ok so the downsides of falling behind on blog posts is my memories of Friday are a little distorted. I won't fall behind again! This was the first time we were to be off-book for our monologues and I was proud of myself for memorizing it. At first when practicing the piece I felt so much stronger with the book in front of me. However, as I become more comfortable with the monologue, it became more and more apparent a) how limiting holding a book can be, and b) that the book was a crutch because I was scared of how the piece would be received by the rest of the workshop. But going up there without the book is liberating. As usual, I was told to work on my breathing, and was given an exercise to work on my breath, and after doing the exercise, I feel the difference, and see how breath helps make the piece.

Tuesday

I LOVE THIS WORKSHOP! Does it have to be over this Tuesday? Really? That just can't be! I still have another monologue to work on. AHH! Not to mention I believe all of us, regardless of whether or not we're auditioning for colleges, love the workshop, and equally importantly, we love Joy! Okay now i'm just going on a happy tangent that sounds like a 5 year old wrote it...

We worked on the subtext of our pieces today. We sat in a chair facing whomever our character was speaking to (in my case, the character's sister) and say the monologue, then say what's behind the monologue, the subtext. The subtext was often our own combination of the writers' words, but I think that's okay, because it showed that we understood the piece.

It was at this point Joy gave me a terrific compliment and told me that she was going to push me harder than before because she saw what I had inside of me. This literally made my week, I can't put it into words. It really reinforced that I am special at something and not just like everyone else.

The two things I still need to work on are breathing and slowing down. SHOCKING right? (/sarcasm). But i'm willing to work on them [:

In a Rut

So this is going to be one of my more open and honest blogs. Here goes.

Dear STAC,

How do you get out of feeling worthless. Loaded question right? But I mean where art is concerned. I seem to go back and forth between excitement and little to no will to create thinking "I have no talent, what's the point" and I hate it. I hate feeling sorry for myself, but no matter how many times I kick myself in the ass, the feeling comes back the next day. And I'm fucking sick of it. So any advice STAC? I'm sorry for being whiny and needy, please forgive me. I just need some help. I just want to feel talented again.

Apologetically yours,

Nicole

Acting

So I love Joy's workshop. I've been feeling pretty down about my level of talent lately, but doing monologues again just felt right at home. It felt like an old shoe or something that just fit perfectly. Even when I was reading a monologue I was unsure about I was able to sense that the uncertainty came from the monologue not from my insecurities. I miss acting so much.

I started wondering, why am I not planning on majoring in theatre in college if this is what makes me feel good? I can't think of a good reason. At first it was that I didn't want to pigeon-hole myself into a career that everyone tells me I'll never make money in, and since I was little my parents have encouraged my writing over my acting (I don't know which I'm better at anymore honestly I tend to think neither) and they want me to study writing in college and I love both but I just don't know. I have no idea what I want to do and it's freaking me out...

This makes little-to-no sense

So I just read Jesse's blogs and I really admired his determination to turn this quarter around. I really need to get MY OWN ass in gear (I'm already behind on english) and I'm applying to colleges and it would look bad for my GP to drop drastically senior year. Yes I have a touch of senioritis, but that's no excuse as it is not a real disease. I think it's interesting that I have senoiritis because as of August I didn't even know if I would be starting senior year on time. I've constantly had therapists and doctors and my parents tell me that it's amazing the grades i've pulled off considering what has been going on behind closed (or i should say, now slightly open) doors. I should want to keep that in mind and it should encourage me to work hard, but I'm having trouble caring.

All I want to do is create. I've been reading monologues for Joy's workshop instead of doing homework, and I feel like I'm making the right decision.

Joy's workshop really inspired me. It has been far too long since I've acted and it all just came rushing back when I worked on my pieces. I'm looking forward to the next few sessions.

Musings (LONG)

Sometimes I feel like my entire life is a punchline for other people. Okay, you're thinking "emo much" but i'm just being honest and don't have anywhere else to vent.

for four years i've been putting myself in USY to please my parents. I tried to be friends with the popular girls to avenge the unpopular little nicole. but they didn't like me. I wouldn't accept it. I kept trying. And they laughed at me both in front and behind my back. It seemed like I was made to be their punching bag. And lately this is bothering me a lot. Mainly it's because the few friends I finally made in USY graduated, but there's something else. It's knowing that at the last day of the last event, everyone will cry, and a part of me will just be happy I no longer need to play this charade.

So here's a piece I wrote on the subject for Ms. Nelson's class last year.

NICOLE’S Voice

A part of me always knew that I wasn’t meant to be friends with the ‘cool girls’. I hadn’t been in their circle during elementary school, hadn’t been in their circle during middle school, and as of this time, I didn’t even have friends in high school. Which was probably why I was determined that in USY, I’d be different. I’d be in the popular clique, I’d be pretty, and I’d meet boys, make friends, and live happily ever after. But those kinds of things never happen in the real world. Just in crappy teen comedies. But with the aforementioned optimism in mind, I went to my first regional USY event, Mid-Winter Kallah. I’m not quite sure what I was expecting, but looking back, I know I was expecting a lot.

This isn’t a story I am proud of. It isn’t one where the main character comes out shining and unscathed. Instead, it is the tale of a girl who realizes that not everyone is nice, including herself.

I found myself forced into a hotel room with Holly, Mickey, and some girl I had never met before named Orly. Holly was very sweet and we quickly became friends, but the more time I spent with her, the more I realized that Holly was ‘unpopular’. She had plenty of friends, but they weren’t the girls I wanted to be friends with. I told myself over and over that I wasn’t being shallow, but that Holly was just far too boy crazy for my taste. Of course that wasn’t the real reason I acted the way I did.

I left the room feeling confident. The simple black dress I was wearing looked good on me. It was something that someone like Shira, one of the popular girls would wear. I expected I would at least have a leg up on the competition. These girls didn’t usually talk to complete strangers, but that was okay because I had Jamie. I’d known Jamie since we were five years old. We’d been good friends for years. The last time I’d seen her before this, the two of us had started crying, realizing that for the first time since kindergarten, we wouldn’t be seeing each other every day in school and camp. So naturally, I assumed she would introduce me to everyone. When I walked into the dining room, I spotted her right away. She was sitting with her friends who I had met at Freshman Bowling Night. There was Zoe, Carolyn, Rachel, and Diane. They had all been nice to me, so I expected things to go well.

“Hey” I said, hugging Jamie tightly. “Can I sit here?”

“Sure” she replied, as expected.

Dinner had just started, and people were filing to the tables. I sat there silently for a few minutes as the rest of them caught up. Within two minutes the table was filled. I noticed Holly across the room with her friends. She waved for me to join them. I ignored her.

I continued to listen to the conversation, an awkward, unnoticed ‘wannabe’, before something caught my attention. Sitting in the middle of the table was a large white bowl filled with what I think was supposed to be chili, but what looked more like human excrements, along with a large wooden serving spoon. I had known that USY food was infamously bad, but this was looked truly heinous. Zoe seemed to have noticed my horrified expression.

“Nicole!” she said excitedly.

I perked up immediately. Here was my chance. I was going to have friends!

“You have to lick that spoon clean if you want to sit with us.” She said.

I gaped at her.

“You’re kidding.” I replied. There was no way I was going to eat that garbage.

“No, I’m totally serious. We all did it. Right?” she asked her suddenly bemused friends.

Numerous nods of agreement, along with poorly disguised snickers followed.

“Tell you what Nicole, I’ll take a lick with you” offered Diane.

“No, Diane, you already did this” said Zoe.

I could feel my face growing hot. Warm tears of confusion were welling up in my eyes.

“I’ll take a lick, but I won’t eat all of it” I offered meekly.

Looking back, I can’t believe I gave up even that much of my dignity.

“No, you have to eat all of it” Zoe replied harshly.

I was completely torn. I had absolutely no one on my side. And then I remembered that one of my oldest friends was sitting at the table with me. I glanced up at her with pleading eyes.

“Jamie,” I whispered.

Jamie laughed nervously and said “Come on guys, she doesn’t have to do this.”

But Zoe was insistent. So before I could embarrass myself by crying in front of all of them, I mustered up as much strength as I could, said “then I don’t want to sit here,” got up, and walked away.

Of course, as soon as I was out of their sight I burst into tears. I had wanted to sit there more than anything. I wanted to be the girl who always had someone telling her to come be with them. Who always had someone grabbing at her hand. Who always felt loved, because she truly was always loved. But I wasn’t. I never would be. Those girls were not my friends. They never would be.

I suppose sometimes things to work themselves out in the end. Sometime punishment is delivered when deserved. And I suppose I should have just learned to enjoy the company of people who enjoyed my company.

That was easier said than done. I spent the rest of the weekend trying to pretend that the chili incident hadn’t happened. I tried to be friends with them. I hugged them all goodbye and told them I’d miss them. I posted on all of their Facebook walls how great a weekend I’d had with them. Outside of our room, I neglected my roommates. I was a monster. This self-inflicted isolation lasted until the middle of sophomore year. It was only then that I realized enough was enough. There were plenty of people who did want to be my friend. And now, that is where I stand. I have friends. They may not be the most popular, but they are real friends.

I still feel awful for being so shallow. And now that I’m friends with Holly again, I wonder if she secretly holds my idiocy against me. If so, I can’t say I don’t deserve it.

My first Mid-Winter Kallah was brought to three realizations. Firstly, you can’t always pick your friends. Friendship is something that just happens. Secondly, real friends are the people that care about you. Those girls who made you feel small aren’t worth anything. And thirdly, I am capable of being a mean girl. And for that I am very sorry.

Jamie’s Voice

I knew something like this would happen. I’d known Nicole long enough to know that she didn’t always fit in, and I’d known Zoe, Carolyn, Diane, Rachel, and everyone else long enough to know that they didn’t always take to new people easily. In order for them to learn to love someone new, that person needed to be forced upon them by a friend. It had to be an inside job. Which meant that I was Nicole’s ticket in. Or the repellent that kept her away.

It’s not that I no longer wanted to be friends with Nicole. It’s just that I didn’t think she would fit in well with my friends. She didn’t fit in when we were in middle school, and I was not about to risk my reputation in USY so she could have her fifteen minutes of fame. They would eat her alive, regardless of whether or not she survived the first night. So I decided to play the innocent bystander. I refused to make or break Nicole.

When I first got to Kallah, I was ridiculously excited. I hadn’t seen some of these people since Encampment, and they were some of my closest friends.

“Zoe!” I called excitedly.

“Jamie!” she called back.

We ran and hugged and before I knew it, it was as if we’d never been apart. I was swarmed into an entire group of friends, all of which came with a hug or an “I missed you so much!” I was ecstatic.

I had promised Rebecca and Shaina, two of my other friends, I’d introduce them to everyone. Yes, I was giving them the introduction Nicole desired, but would not receive but that’s just because I have to see Rebecca in school everyday. Or at least that’s what I told myself. And wherever Rebecca went, Shaina went. It had nothing to do with Nicole. Nothing at all.

We all sat down to dinner, and Nicole came over to sit. She hugged me hello and I hugged her back. It really was good to see her.

“Can I sit here?” she asked. She sounded…timid, which was something I’d never heard from her before.

“Sure” I replied. I quickly introduced her to everyone before turning back to Claudia, to resume our conversation. I was more than acutely aware of the fact that Nicole just sat there, far from her usual talkative self. In fact, she was completely silent. And that’s when Zoe broke the ice.

“Nicole, you can only eat with us if you eat that entire spoonful of food” she commanded.

I quickly looked to see what she was talking about. Zoe was pointing to a bowl filled with some sort of brown food, with a giant wooden serving spoon. Nicole paled upon hearing the words from Zoe’s mouth.

“You’re kidding” she said.

“We all did” Zoe replied sternly. “Now you have to do it too”.

Nicole began to fumble her words. I didn’t know what she said until I heard my name. I knew she wanted me to fix this. Not only did I not know how, but I just couldn’t bring myself to help her. I could not have Zoe be mad at me for ruining her little prank.

“Aw guys, she doesn’t have to do this” I said.

There; I was fair and nonchalant. Zoe thought differently.

“We all did it, now she as to too”.

I wished she would stop saying that. Only a fool would believe we had all been forced into this ritual.

Nicole rose and said, “Then I guess I don’t want to sit here”. For an instant, her four foot eleven inches seemed to become six feet. Yet I know that she left the table in shame.

“Zoe, why would you do that?” I asked. Zoe laughed.

“Chill, it was just a joke. I didn’t think she’d take it so seriously.” she said.

“I know, but I feel bad for her” I responded.

I felt a strange sort of embarrassment to be such good friends with Zoe. She was an amazing person…to me at least. But this wasn’t the first time I’d seen her put someone down.

“Whatever, it’s over now” she said.

And she was right.

I’m not proud of what I did. But I don’t think I would change it if I could do it over again. Nicole wouldn’t have fit in, no matter how much I helped her. And she seems happy with her friends now. She still comes to USY events, so she must have forgotten. Right?

Edited version of what I learned in STAC

Okay so I really did mean what I said about the honesty and open-ness, but I'm still learning. So here's a slightly chopped up version of the paper I handed in today:

I am not the same person I was last year in many, many ways. Let’s face it, last year my brain wasn’t functioning very well, and I didn't do as much work as I'd have liked to do. I never finished anything and I didn’t care. Though I tried to hide it, I was depressed. Many people say that depression is good for artwork, but, as I’ve discussed with Molly in the past, that is far from the case. When you’re depressed, you’re too tired to do anything. All I thought about last year was what I'm going through, and while it is still very prevalent in both my life and my art this year, it exists in a different way. I think a lot of expression I learned in STAC truly has helped me begin to heal.
This quarter has really taught me a lot about the necessity of art in an artist’s life. In fact, this is what I discussed on my recent interview with Muhlenberg College. Early on in the year, we discussed Rilke’s thoughts about art in Letters to a Young Poet and during that time, I hadn’t fully subscribed to that idea. After all, if this was
the case, how could you explain commissions other than accusing anyone who plans to make a living a sell-out? However, as time went on, more occurrences of art really hitting me seemed to come along, and I began
to felt he necessity more. A few weeks ago Molly posted a blog about a traumatic experience a few days after I had discussed my trauma with her. Reading her blog, I was so shocked by her honesty, and at the same time so jealous (something Rilke also discussed in his letters) that she could express herself that way. And thus I wrote my poem (the blog entry on October 7th. Afterwards I was shaking and crying and I remember having to write something else for STAC but not wanting to.
Similarly, I wrote a short piece inspired both by our discussion on helping homeless people and some of my actions last year. Thus came the short poem/story. I am learning to love this rush. It makes me feel like I have created something worthwhile. I think that is what I’ve learned most this quarter, that I can create. Even in STAC art, I liked my piece because it felt like something I created; it had a message from somewhere within me.
I also felt a dizzy rush when I read “Child in Red” by Rilke (a quote from which-”She seems to move according to the rhythm of her life to come” I used for my senior quote.) Never before had a poem expressed something I was feeling so much. At that particular point, I had been pretty optimistic, and I thought of that poem as growing and knowing that growth was okay. I was literally shaking.

I’m also learning to trust. I’ve posted things on my blog that in the past I would never have dreamed to let people see. I wrote about my problems (though vaguely), my trauma, and what is actually going on in my life. And while afterwards I often thought “O no, the newbies are going to think I’m insane/everyone will think I’m obsessed with sympathy” (that is one of my greatest fears) I have not let that stop me from posting. I have trusted STAC to be a community of artists who will appreciate me. Hopefully one day my art will be appreciated outside of a small artist community, but at the moment, this is what I’m ready for and this is what I’m doing.
The acting exercises have changed the way I see people. When you first said “picture someone you’re afraid of” I actually thought of a few people in STAC who have a lot of talent and whom I am jealous of. But as I do the exercises more and more, I find myself less and less afraid of them. I mean, why should I be? There are so many worse people in the world. And I realized I couldn’t be afraid of them when my projections weren’t working.

I was about to write “I’m sorry for not writing about art just about myself” but you said to write about how STAC has affected me, so that is what I did. And this is art. This writing is art because it is being creative and honest and therapeutic. So I won’t let myself apologize. I will try not to fear that this will result in a failing grade. I will try and let go.

I hate labels

Now that I wrote this i'm not quite sure what to do with it...

codename: the glamourous one

characteristics: control, beauty, shyness.

she's the one people are jealous of. the one people hate but also admire. the one people think isn't so bad. at least she's popular

codename: the stupid one

characteristics: impulsivity, mild beauty, wild.

she's the one people like a lot but look down upon for her "lifestyle choices." people think she's wrong and don't get why she can't just be 'normal.'

codename: the fake one

characteristics: massive confusion

either no one sees or her she is mistaken for the glamourous or stupid one. those who know her don't take her seriously.

codename: the ugly one

characteristics: depression, impulsivity.

normally a very sweet person who needs just as much love at the glamourous one, but people think she brings her life on to herself.

The state of modern theatre kind of sucks

So today I saw the closing performance of "Brighton Beach Memoirs." That's right, closing. It opened a week ago. And guess what? It was GOOD. Really good. Yet it is closing.

A common criticism of Neil Simon plays is that the jokes are fed to you and doesn't require any actual acting (or on the audience's part, thinking). This play is an exception as it is a dramedy. It has funny moments, but overall, it is a serious piece.

The actors all seemed to give the show their all, especially because they knew it would be the last time they would perform it. The boy who played Eugene really stood out. He managed to be really funny while capturing the overall essence of the piece, the depression era, pre WWII.

I particularly enjoyed the woman who played Blanche. She provided both comic relief and drove the plot forwards. She was very physically into character, which is something I really admire. She committed to a character and stuck to it. I also really liked the girl who played Laurie. The character was annoying, but the actress pulled it off.

It's such a shame that crap like Shrek plays a year or so and a good play like Brighton Beach Memoirs plays a week (not including previews.) It's a sad truth that today, in order for a straight play to succeed, it needs a big name (ala Hugh Jackman and Daniel Craig.)