Chat #1

I had an epiphany about suicide the other week

in my voice class-

we were all laying around on the ground, breathing and meditating, when all of a sudden I got this pang of fear and anxiety- I felt like my body was too small for what I needed

and I realized that we are hanging on to life by such a small string of breath- if that stops, we are finished

what is it?

whats more, we dont even consciously monitor that breath- its autonomic

meaning we are kept alive against our will, in a manner of speaking

I freaked out- lol

I get these moments of anxiety that I can control, but I have never had them before in my life

I liken them to claustrophobia

trapped, condemned to suffering.

I mean, I can deal, but..

it is daunting when you think of it all at once.

Old age frightens me suddenly- lol

Sorry if this is a lot- I realize this may not be the best thing to talk about right now

but then there are moments of incredible love;

I was by the pool, ignoring my stomach pain and reading, when this father came in with his little daughter

he helped her down 5 steps, one at a time, holding onto her hand

guided her to the pool

she got close to the water, took it in, and looked back at her father and exclaimed some baby gibberish

the dad smiled and knelt down, splashing the water with his hand

the little girl watched attentively, and then followed his example

they looked at some flowers afterward, but that moment of watching, learning, growing, loving- it was all one and all so beautiful and clear

all at once

Sense Memory

An interesting thing that actors will do in order to recreate emotional responses is to recall specifics in their personal memory that summon the required emotion. I feel this is as false as a poorly executed stage punch. We are attempting to suspend the disbelief of our audience- why would we move so far away from the circumstances of the play in order to execute something as self-serving as sense memory of one's own experiences? I believe the actor should always endeavor to live within the circumstances as the play as thoroughly as possible. The way "in" to the role might be served initally by recalling events of abuse or passionate love, but ultimately the character's circumstances need to be served, not the actor's. There is an air of selfishness that I cannot seem to ignore when I see a performer dredging their heart on stage, slopping down muck before the audience's feet that does not honor the circumstances of the play. It makes for a more truthful recreation to be fighting for the problems of the character, versus regurgitating things that should be addressed in the actor's personal life with a therapist.

We must be giving. 

Night Time Musings

So another Superbowl has gone by, and the New Orleans Saints now have their first ever franchise victory. It was a fun game to watch- knocked back a couple of margaritas, but sat at my table all alone.. It kind of got to me on some deeper level.

I don't really make friends that easy- really good ones anyway. I meet a whole bunch of people, but tend to judge them too quickly with a surgical analysis, usually resulting in me thinking they are a waste of time. Now, admittedly, I know that every single person out there has something to bring to the table of life. My shortsightedness, or rather my over developed forethought/paranoia(?), seems to rob them of any chance of an interaction with me... Or my chance of interacting with them.

But what is it that I am gunning for? If they are wastes of time, who are the ones I consider valuable? I find that people who do not address major problems in their lives rub me the wrong way. I adhere to the adage: "of the first flaw you see in others, this is usually the one you yourself possess." I have been turning it over in my head what this problem of mine might be. I recall at one point in my life, while I was still in sales, I was very cordial and polite with everyone I met. Not just to support my customer base, but because my level of human interaction was so high that I was in the "groove," so-to-speak. I liked talking to people, and for the most part, people liked talking to me. I find in recent times a sort of dread that overtakes me- it happens as I size up how a new person breathes and moves, and after the first word out of their mouth I can tell if my assertions about them were correct. The scary thing is I am usually right.

I know that living life in the binary is silly; that trying to encapsulate someone into one category or boxed definition just isn't enough so compass the richness of one human soul. However, when anticipating a persons action or word through the means of close analysis, it is hard to ignore the patterns of human behavior that shed light to a situation, very often making it advantageous for me. I have been consciously trying to keep my innate skills at bay, not employing them.. And I fear they grow rusty..

A woman smiled at me- I met her gaze, then quickly avoided eye contact. Why? Why run away? Why always so ready to flee? I do love people. I don't very much like to be alone. Why then do I make such a strong effort to avoid? Perhaps it is some character weakness/facet that I have yet to articulate in myself.

Sapere Aude

It means "dare to know" in Latin. I found myself enamored with a Bruce Lee poster online, it bore the quote "Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Willing is not enough; we must do." After a little research about this profound piece of text, I found it originally belonged to Goethe, a German who created Weltliteratur, World Literature.

I am in a point at my life where I am holding myself accountable for the things that I know. Ranging from personal relationships to business and education, I am constantly pursuing the honesty in my knowledge, the Truth that I perceive, and am standing behind my ideals.

This is difficult.

I find it is far too easy to travel the path of least resistance, one must constantly be in tune with ones own desires, requiring a great deal of focus and discipline. The titanic social paradigms that surround our world grind like gears, smashing our individuality into dust, demanding our conformity. Yet how else would the world work? In order to have Order individuality must be kept confined. And I wonder if even those we consider "radical," (artists, politicians, theorists, etc.) who are breaking boundaries in their fields aren't already working within a huge construct that only allows them to be as such?